


Spanners

by Kahvi, Roadstergal



Series: Spanners/Breaking the Chain Series [1]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, Humor, M/M, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:12:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plain old Arnold is coming to terms with being <i>Ace</i> Rimmer, though the burn of Lister's rejection still runs hot in his veins. Rimmer was given no choice but to leave, as he sees it; Lister forced his hand... but then he meets a man with an entirely different perspective on the situation. What do mechanics do, after all, but adjust things that need fixing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Ace, love, wake up."

Rimmer snorted and turned on the cot in the back of the single-occupant Dimension Jump ship. He tried to get back to sleep. He was terribly tired.

"Ace, love, wake up."

The computer's sweet, sexy voice made for an eerie alarm clock. But he hadn't set her. He grumbled and stumbled across the two feet between him and the cockpit. "Whu?"

"We have received an emergency transmission from Mimas base, Dimension 486," she replied in a voice that was far too sultry for that information.

"What is it?" Rimmer asked, sitting in the pilot's seat and yawning.

"They say there is a GELF on the loose. It is a late point in a very important and expensive research project. They need it captured and returned alive."

Rimmer frowned. Something else struck him as odd, as sleep fell away from his brain. "How did they call us from a different dimension?"

"This dimension was very close to the dimension of the original Ace. The fifth Ace came from there, and retained his roots; he went back to visit often. They developed an inter-dimensional communicator."

"You never mentioned this?"

"Ace..." a grating note of frustration intruded on the computer's sultry voice, "if I told you about everything your predecessors did, the universe would end before we moved again."

Rimmer sighed. "Fine. Take us there, would you?" He closed his eyes as the familiar stomach-inverting feel of the Dimension Jump drive kicked in. He sighed and pressed his hands to his stomach. He always emerged in another dimension convinced that he had left an internal organ or two in the previous one.

"Plotting course to Mimas," the computer noted. "You should get dressed."

Rimmer headed back to the small sleeping nook. Hologrammatic clothes were all very well, but they would disappear once they left his body, and that tended to startle the rather attractive young people who had shown an interest in removing his clothes since he became Ace. Fortunately, the computer had a discreet tailor in her database. As well as a discreet hairdresser and a discreet sexual dysfunction specialist. Rimmer had pointedly disregarded the hints and visited the tailor. He now put on the fruits of the little winzed man's labor and strapped himself in.

He cleared his throat as they neared Mimas base, and dropped his voice as the computer opened communications channels. "Hey, fellas, how are those kippers coming?"

 

Rimmer left the containment area after having dumped the tied-up, slobbering GELF inside. He wiped a handful of slime off of his forehead, where it had been threatening to drop into his eyes, and worked up a smile for the little white-coated woman who ran towards him. "Ah, you caught him?" She ran to the reinforced window to look at the snarling, slimy creature that thrashed about inside, and the joy in the grin that spread across her face contrasted sharply with the severity of her tight bun. "Oh, wonderful!" She turned back to Ace, stuck her hand out to shake his, then pulled it back as she saw Rimmer's goop-covered one. "Thank you!"

Rimmer frowned at her, somewhat disconcerted by her obvious delight on seeing the GELF. "Erm, glad to be of help."

She started to walk down the corridor, motioning him to follow. Her stubby legs were a blur, and Rimmer had to walk rather quickly to keep up. "We are developing a whole new line of genetically engineered life forms. They will colonize space! Terraform planets too hostile for human life!"

"Very nice," Rimmer panted. He wanted nothing more than a shower and a lie-down. He did not want to run along behind a woman who was somehow more enamored of a slime-beast than of him.

"Yes," she gushed. "We're calling them the Kinitawowe."

For the first time since he had arrived, Rimmer felt a genuine smile touch his features. "Very good research. Keep it up."

The small woman finally stopped at the end of the pristine white corridor, lifted a handset that sat there, and spoke into it. "Keith? Yes? Send Spanners down here, would you?" She hung up and turned to Rimmer, and appeared surprised at something. "Spanners will take care of you - I imagine you want to clean up a bit...?"

The name tickled at the back of Rimmer's mind. He had heard it once before, he was sure - but where? He noted how the doctor was staring at him, and realized he probably was supposed to know this Spanners. "Oh, yes, bully!" he exclaimed with false heartiness. "Good old Spanners, eh?"

 

Spanners hurried along the corridor, annoyed to have been yanked away from his regular duties with no explanation. He did not like breaks in routine. Breaks made it harder to keep to the routine, and he had enough trouble with that as it was. He rounded the corner, and saw two figures standing at the end of the corridor. The tiny white-coated one was obviously Dr. Hargave, but the other one... rather tall... broad-shouldered... glimmering like tinfoil... Spanners slowed down.

 

The birdlike scientist could not be more obvious about wanting to get back to work if she were crouched in a sprinter's start. Rimmer was having no luck with small talk. Whoever Spanners was, he thought desperately, let he or she or it get here soon! He turned rather eagerly at the sound of footsteps in the echoy corridor. The figure producing that sound was short and dark, and had a open face that was instantly recognizable. "List...?" Rimmer swallowed the name down. This boy looked as young as Lister did when they first met, back in the cab on Mimas. And although time flowed oddly in dimensions relative to each other, and he might very well have gone back in time relative to his home dimension, he was fairly sure Lister had never worked at the test base. Or had a little moustache that lay across his upper lip like a torpid caterpillar. Or been that neatly turned out - ever. No, this must be a parallel to Lister, as he was to Ace. He folded his hands in front of him and tried to look dignified and in control. It would have worked better if a dollop of slime had not slid off of his hand and landed on his boot with a wet plop.

"Ace. Man." The words sounded false, Spanners knew, but he was having enough trouble just refraining from jumping the man. In an overly nonchalant tone, he went on, trying not to breathe too heavily. "Good to see ya!" He felt as though butterflies were inhabiting every nook and cranny of his body, and he shook his arms and legs a little to keep them from tickling so damn much.

"Yes," Rimmer replied, hesitantly. "Great to see you, too." He could feel his eyebrows jumping about. God, it had been years since he had seen Lister. His mind was searching for memories to compare the man in front of him to. Leaner, he decided; just a little bit. Less baby fat in the cheeks. This man stood with an almost artificial composure.

The little scientist spoke to Spanners without preamble. "Dave, take Ace to get cleaned up, there's a dear." She was clearly relieved to have the excuse to leave and get back to her business. Rimmer waved her farewell. "In a day's work, ma'am!" She paid no attention, disappearing around another corner.

Spanners watched her leave, a somewhat worried expression on his face. Rimmer looked at it curiously. Very like the Lister he knew. More like Lister than Ace was like him, he decided, in appearance, at least. Spanners followed her with his eyes until he was sure they were alone. Once they were, he looked up with joyous grin. Rimmer stepped back, startled at the sheer delight on the other man's face. He smiled wanly in response.

"Oh, God, man... I've missed you!" Spanners yipped. He threw himself around Ace, ignoring the slime that covered the man. He'd have embraced him if he'd been covered in worse things, he realized, not a little ashamed. He did try to be neat, but it was hard. And Ace had a way of making him loose any kind of control.

"Um, old matey... boy..." Rimmer stuttered. He had no idea how to process this. He held his arms out of the way as Spanners rocked slightly, his hands moving up and down Rimmer's back a little. "I'm a bit slimy, here." Spanners would be getting it all over himself.

Spanners felt swamped with emotion, enough to ignore Ace's odd behavior - which did tickle the back of his mind. He broke away, looking up with an eager grin. "Heh, yeah, I guess you are, at that."

Rimmer looked down at Spanners, confused. This was odd behavior for any form of Lister to display towards him. This was odd behavior for anyone to display towards a coworker. About the only reason for someone to display this behavior at all would be - Rimmer pushed away that train of thought. A vague sadness crept into his gut, and started negotiating a long-term lease. "Yes," he replied, heavily.

Oh right. Yes. Spanners mentally slapped himself as he realized why Ace was acting so strangely. They'd agreed to keep their relationship a secret, after all. It didn't do for Ace to be seen to have attachments, he'd said, and although they seemed to be alone, there was no reason not to be extra careful. "Well," he began. "We... we should get you somewhere else, yeah? I'm sure you'd like to clean up and that. Maybe..." he gave Ace a calculating look, trying to figure out some kind of code they would both understand, "get some rest?" When had they last been to bed together? Felt like decades.

Rimmer felt relief. That was simple and straightforward. That he could deal with. Clean up and rest. God, rest! He had been tired when he landed this morning, and had spent all day sparring with that GELF. "Yes, that would be marvelous, old chum." He hated Ace-isms, but had a good stock of them, courtesy of the computer. She had assured him that it was 'expected."

Old chum? That was an odd thing for his lover to call him, Spanners thought, but shook it off quickly. It was probably just the space heroics getting to him. They did that, quite often.

"I could use a shower," Rimmer continued, looking down at himself. His gold suit was almost all black loam and greenish slime, courtesy of wrestling the GELF in the agricultural dome. The mucosal goop choked his wig and dripped icy trails down the back of his shirt. He looked at Spanners, seeing him covered with a good dose of the slime, himself, from the hug. "Looks like you could, too."

The code had been understood! Spanners heart skipped a beat as he imagined the two of them wet and naked, washing one another clean, and then... and then all sorts of things. The showers on base were hardly intended for two people, but you could just about squeeze a person of Spanners's size in with a person of Ace's size, if you didn't mind rubbing against one another. Tightly. He nearly died from desire, only barely managing to practically moan out a "Yes..."

Rimmer paused from wringing out his sleeves when he saw Spanners's reaction. He cringed. Oh, _hell_. The vague sadness in his gut had invited over two friends, mortification and dread.

Spanners shook himself, realizing he was acting like an imbecile. "Erm. Come on then!" He started to lead the way, wanting to run and skip, but settling for humming very quietly, under his breath, instead.

Rimmer followed, feeling conflicted. There was no doubt, now, that Spanners thought he was some other Ace. Some other Ace who had been... involved with Spanners. But why did this Spanners not realize, from his actions, that he was not the same Ace? Perhaps... a cold anger evicted the other emotions from his gut. They stood around outside, irate and persistent. Rimmer's thoughts spun in circles as he squelched his way down the corridor behind Spanners, worrying at his lips with his teeth, spitting out the bitter slime that clung to them.

Almost dancing, wishing they could just move the station around them and end up straight in the shower, Spanners tried to make small talk about unimportant things, but Ace seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed. In the end Spanners decided to just walk faster. It was that way with a lot of things; sometimes you just had to grit your teeth and do some honest work. Short cuts were only for lazy daydreamers, or so he'd always been told. Only quite recently had he learned to live by that maxim. Even though the route was familiar to Spanners, and usually fairly quick, it seemed to take forever. Ace made several false starts at conversation, but cut each one short by biting his lip. At a corridor junction, Spanners pointed left, just to have something to do. "It's down this way." A pointless and unnecessary gesture, as he had already started walking down that way. Besides, Ace knew the way same as him, didn't he?

Rimmer followed Spanners gamely, wishing he could think of an appropriate word to say. Small talk was all that was appropriate for out in public, and every bit of small talk that sprang to mind was hopelessly banal. "Yes, the base looks... good... you've been taking good care of it..." He cringed at how horrid it sounded.

Ace's voice was wooden, artificial and somewhat impatient. Spanners knew how he felt. "Yeah. Yeah, we... er..." He mumbled, frowning and coughing, looking from side to side. Decades, hell; it felt like _centuries_. Finally, mercifully, he saw the door to his quarters approaching. He rushed towards it, fumbling with the lock's key-pad, his fingers not working like they should. "Well, here we are!" Like a human whirlwind, he opened the door and sprang inside the room in one clumsily fluid motion.

Rimmer walked in after him with his fists clenched, bracing himself for the conversation they were going to have. Your lover is dead. I'm just pretending to be him. How's the weather?

Ace was walking too slowly, far too slowly! Spanners stood inside of the room, panting, slapping the Door Close switch as soon as Ace was clear of it, then lunged at him, kissing him passionately, inhibitions flying.

Rimmer had not been expecting such an action so quickly. Spanners was so like Lister, with his stubby fingers, now pressed to the small of Rimmer's back, his long, agile tongue that slid around in Rimmer's mouth, the height difference that tilted Spanners's head upwards as he stood on tiptoes. For just a moment, shivering, Rimmer kissed him back, thinking of _his_ Lister... the Lister whose rasta plaits would be twitching down his back, who would probably taste like old cigarette butts and lager, not like fresh mint toothpaste, and who did not have a tickle of a moustache over his upper lip.

Ace raised his hand to Spanners's cheek as the other man moaned and pressed against him. Spanners needed their clothes to be off; their bodies entangled _now_. One second more would be too long; hell, it had already been too long, years too long.

Rimmer lifted his head, pushing back gently on Spanners. He dropped the stupid bloody Ace accent. "Dave..." he sighed, his gut clenching.

"What?" Spanners asked, confused. Ace's voice sounded odd, too nasal, too high in pitch.

Rimmer let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes and looking away. As if this conversation was not going to be bad enough, now he would have to have it while he was painfully horny. "He never told you, did he."

Something deep inside him, the same part that would warn his ancient ancestors that man-eating predators were lurking nearby in the savannah grass, was nudging Spanners in the ribs, and he felt a certain desperation setting in. "What?!"

Rimmer could not do this while pressed up close. He pulled back and walked to the wall, putting one hand against it, needing its solidity. He put his back to it, and slid to the ground, his legs pulled up in front of him. He tried to look at Spanners's open, confused, loving face. He looked back down at his hands.

Anger and worry nudged equally at Spanners. "Ace, what is this? You're scaring me!"

"Eh.." Rimmer's voice was a hoarse whisper. He swallowed. "I'm not Ace."

Maybe it was just the usual angst that got to his lover sometimes, Spanners thought, ignoring the voice inside him insisting that it was far more than that. He got down on his knees next to Ace, and reached out to caress his face. Yes, something was clearly off; he had no idea why he hadn't sensed it before. The joy of seeing Ace again, probably. The man in front of him almost didn't look like the one who had left him; it was as though he'd been changed, somehow. How long had he been gone? Had time moved differently for him? He looked older, weary, infinitely tired. Spanners adopted a joking tone, gently joking, wanting to reassure. Who he was reassuring, he didn't quite know. Both of them, probably. "Of course you are, man."

Rimmer cringed as warm, soft fingers touched his face. He pulled away slightly. "No, I'm not. I'm a..." he hunted for words. What the smegging hell was he, after all?

All the love he had for this wonderful man threatened to strangle Spanners, as he looked on, trying to understand. He didn't know what was wrong, but they could work it out, together. "It's all right. I love you." They loved one another, and anything was possible as long as they had that.

"...replacement," Rimmer found. "Stand-in."

Spanner's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

Rimmer blinked at Spanners's words, feeling almost physical pain. Anger was brewing in him, anger at this other Ace. He put his head back, fuming. "Your Ace is dead." He spat it out like an invective.

That face, Spanners thought, looking more intently at Ace. It did look odd. Maybe it hadn't changed, or aged prematurely. Maybe there was a much simpler explanation, a chillingly simple one. "I'd say you were lying... but I can tell." His voice was cold and dead. He touched Ace's face again, gently, tracing an outline which both was and was not familiar. "He didn't have that scar." Ace shivered at the touch, his lip shaking. "His eyes weren't as brown."

This was too much to take. This dimension's Ace had been just like the original, too much like him. Effortlessly charming, heroic, sexy. Worst, though, he had _Lister_. Lister hopelessly devoted to him, senselessly in love, ready to stick his tongue down Ace's throat the moment he came back from a siesta of - how many years? Rimmer leapt to his feet and strode away from Spanners. He tore off his wig and threw it on the ground. "He wasn't a smegging lot like me!"

Spanners jumped as the wig fell to the floor, not sure if he was more surprised to see Ace tear his hair off like that, or by the abruptness of the action. He leaned against the wall, half expecting it to crumble away, too; everything else seemed to be falling apart. "What..."

Rimmer folded his arms, his back to Spanners. Ace had run off without telling Spanners about the Aces. No, he had left that to Rimmer. He had left Rimmer to deal with the fallout of his little paradise turning to smeg. "Sorry," he said, quietly. He was surprised to discover that he meant it. "I'm not him. There have been - millions, I don't know how many. One of us dies, someone else steps in."

This didn't make any sense. Spanners liked things to makes sense; it helped him keep order in his life. Now all that he thought he knew with absolute certainty seemed to spin away from him helplessly, like the crew of a ship that has suddenly lost artificial gravity. And looming over all this was an overwhelming sadness; one he didn't dare analyze further. "What are you telling me?" he asked, quietly. But the words sunk in and resolved, mercilessly, forcing him to face what he already knew. "Oh smeg... Oh god..."

Rimmer could not look. He could not watch the hope and love turn to despair and disgust.

"He's dead." He should be crying. That's what you did when someone you loved was dead. He wanted to be crying. But nothing happened.

Rimmer choked on a sigh.

"He's dead," Spanners repeated, stating a fact. That was what it was; the only thing it felt like right now.

"Ye... s."

Spanners looked up steadily at the back of this Ace who was not his Ace, wondering if the wet he felt in his eyes were tears. "And now you're him, is that it?" His eyes fell to the wig with some distaste. No wonder he had looked off; that shoddy thing was nothing like _his_ Ace's hair.

Rimmer turned around, halfway, looking at Spanners out of the corner of his eye. The man was blurry and indistinct. "No, I'm not him. I'm just - doing his job."

"Right," Spanners replied, resignedly. "I see."

Rimmer nodded, his arms folded tightly over his chest. He repeated his words from before, but a repeat did not give them any more meaning - or the ability to comfort. "I'm sorry." They were so much air.

"Don't I feel a right fool now, then," Spanners replied, flatly. "Bet this happens a lot." With so many Aces there had to be that many lovers; that many Listers, and probably more than a few other people of either sex, waiting patiently for their interdimensional hero to return with a swagger and shag them for a bit before moving on. And while this Ace had resisted his advances, who was to say what other Aces had done to other Listers that weren't really theirs to claim? He started feeling rather sick.

Rimmer's anger could not persist in the face of Spanners's hurt, his very justifiable pique. His love had been for another man, and had fled the room, leaving a cold vacuum in its wake. "I'm sorry... I really didn't know that you didn't... know."

"Should have realized. All those dimensions. Bound to be another Arnold 'Ace' Rimmer there too, right?"

Another. And another. And another. "There's so many of us..." Rimmer choked. So many of them so much more than he was. He closed his eyes.

"And how many Listers? Is there a Lister where you're from?" The thought had come to him, suddenly. Somehow, if there was, if this Ace had a Lister, if they were happy, then that would mean at least something was right in the universe.

God, no. Don't make me think about this, Rimmer thought. He did not reply.

The look on Ace's face was answer enough. But it was not the look Spanners was hoping to see. "There is, isn't there?"

Rimmer shrugged, trying not to think about tatty leather jackets, curries, cigarette smoke, rasta plaits.

That Ace did not want to talk about this was more than obvious. Not something he felt was important then. Not a priority in his life. Spanners felt anger take over him, and embraced it gratefully; he could deal with anger. It was simple, clean, to the point. He moved closer. "You have a Dave too, don't ya? And you _left_ him?"

Rimmer's voice was flat. "He didn't love me like you loved Ace."

It was almost funny. Almost. Spanners snorted out a humorless laugh. "Is that right, then? You asked, did ya?"

"He made it clear," Rimmer spat out from between his teeth. "He once told me he loved me. Laughed about it for weeks afterwards."

Spanners studied Ace's face. He was as hard to read as his own Ace was. No, had been. He couldn't tell if this anger was sincere or not. Couldn't tell if the ridiculous words coming out of his mouth were real, or some weird way of trying to make Spanners feel better about having lost _his_ Ace.

Rimmer turned away from this man who was Lister, but wasn't. "It's not important."

"Well." Spanners stood up straight. "Tell you what. I'm Dave Lister, too. And I loved Ace; my Ace." He studied the face in front of him for any sign of emotional change, but there was none. Determined, he went on. "But I loved everything about him. Everything. Wasn't always so good at showing it, though. I see him in you." The fretting. The uncertainty. The way he'd handled that GELF when he was showing every sign of not having slept for ages. The complete and utter inability to see what an amazing man he really was.

Passionate embraces. A soulful, sensual kiss that still tweaked Rimmer's libido. "You certainly seemed good about showing it to me," he replied harshly, glaring at the ground.

"Well, I hadn't seen you... I mean, him, for two years! Does things to a person, that." It still did, dammit. Their bodies looked nearly identical, if Spanners was any judge. And if he wasn't, he'd like to know who was.

Two years? What was two years? What about hundreds, locked in the dark? "I hadn't seen him for 600..." Rimmer shrugged, dismissing the topic. He would have kissed Lister for hours when he pulled that filthy blanket off, but the other man had stepped back, a look of vague annoyance on his face.

Spanners raised an eyebrow. "Eh?"

"Nothing." Which was all he was to Lister. "Trust me, he doesn't care."

Anger, simple, uncomplicated anger rose along with Spanners frustration. "How could he not? "He's me, ain't he?" Why was this simple concept so hard for this Ace to understand?

"Not exactly. Just like I'm not Ace." Rimmer ran his hand through his hair, pointedly. So many differences; some superficial, some not.

Spanners paused for a moment, considering those words. They didn't seem to make any more sense that what had already happened. If there was more than one Ace, then clearly, being Ace was a job. This one had said so himself, hadn't he? And if it was, what this Ace was doing right now - trying to explain, being polite and understanding when he could have just thrown Spanners out, or worse yet, taken advantage of him at his most vulnerable - well, that went above and beyond the call of duty. He picked up the wig, carefully, and handed it to Ace. "Yes, you are."

Rimmer glared at the slimy, filthy thing. "I'm not your Ace. And he's not my Lister."

Spanners nodded. "No, you're not the man who left me. And yer not mine. But yer as good an Ace as I've ever seen. And I know... Ace... " Yes, he knew Ace. Even before they'd ended up in bed together that strange, confusing, wonderful night Ace had first returned for him, they'd been friends, excellent friends despite the gap of the differences between them. Crossing that gap had not been easy, but not trying, not even thinking it was possible? How could anyone think like that? Even now, with Ace's body dead and buried - who knew where - Spanners could still feel his long, sensitive hands on him, his breath in his ear, his lips moving their way down Spanners's body, the way Ace would twitch and moan and whimper when he licked his nipples... Yes, he knew Ace. Every inch of him, body, soul and mind.

Rimmer frowned, his lip not quite steady. This friendship, in face of the love he had given _his_ Rimmer, his Ace, was more than Rimmer expected, and so much less than he wanted. A condescending friendship. The friendship of the girls who had called him a "nice guy," back when he was alive, and gently wiggled their way out of his life as soon as they could.

Reluctantly, Spanners returned to reality, and saw that the wig was still in his hands. He offered it again, locking eyes with its fickle owner.

"Hell." Rimmer took it with a lackluster squelch. He folded his arms, with it under one elbow, and faced Spanners squarely, raising one eyebrow.

"There." Spanners could not help but smile. It was a small step, but it was something. If he could get this Ace to accept his role, to be happy; well, that was certainly something, too.

"He loved.. the old Ace, I think." Too much had been said. Rimmer had to spit out the rest, everything that had been clawing at him for so many years. The profound jealousy he felt, watching Lister and Ace touch and talk and touch... "Might have been yours."

Spanners shook his head, smiling sadly. He'd never expected Ace to be faithful. With all the possibilities out there, anyone would be tempted, and Spanners didn't want to stand in the way any potential happiness that might come Ace's way. In fact, he hadn't fully expected him to return, and every time he did, he felt like he was falling in love with the man all over again. "I wouldn't have blamed him. Turned quite a few heads, he did. But you know what?" he added, earnestly. "I didn't love him for all of that. Not for the hair or the tinfoil suit or the swagger, or the smooth talking. Not for the nutty smegging heroics."

"Not much left after that," Rimmer grated.

"I love him fer _him_. What he was inside, like." He pointed at Ace's chest, as though that would indicate his entire being; the sum of what he was.

"Not much in us, and I know, because I'm there." The contents of Rimmer were pettiness and meanness and unrequited affection turned to bitterness.

Spanners smiled weakly. "I see it in yer eyes." Rimmer lowered them quickly. "You've got... whatever it was he had. What made me love him. And you can't come here telling me there's a Dave Lister anywhere in the smegging multiverse that doesn't see that and want it, no matter what he tells ya!" He sounded it off quickly, a little too loud, as though he were trying to reach across dimensions to whoever this other Lister was and let him know what a fool his Arnold Rimmer was. He had to love him. It couldn't be otherwise. If he didn't, then nothing was right with the universe, and they all might as well just give up.

Rimmer blinked rapidly. This was not his Lister. This was... some smegging romantic who got his perfect love affair, and thought everyone else did, too. They don't, you bastard, he thought desperately. Not one man in a thousand gets to love someone, truly. You did. You were smegging lucky. "Whatever you say."

This wasn't enough? Even this wasn't enough? Was this Ace blind as well as stupid? Couldn't he see the love in Spanners's eyes, too strong to be held back by his long-suffered regime of self-restraint now; the love for a man who, for all intents and purposes, _was_ the man standing here now. He shook his head in disbelief. "You really don't see it, do ya?" He moved closer still. "How beautiful you are?" Ace closed his eyes and tilted his head down. Spanners could not help himself. He planted a soft kiss on Ace's forehead. You couldn't be that close and not do that. Not if you were David Lister. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you can't see that."

Rimmer backed away, thinking of Lister's grin, his joy at Rimmer's departure. "It's... all over. He told me to go. He made his choice. And mine, too. It wasn't my idea. It wasn't my choice."

The anger had gone, leaving Spanners with nothing but a dull sort of emptiness and exhaustion. "He made _yer_ choice?"

Rimmer opened his eyes, blinking until the blur resolved into Spanners. "I didn't want to leave, D... Li... Spanners."

Now there was a word, a concept. Spanners knew about choices. He'd made a fair few of them over the years, many of which he'd regretted. He'd chosen to give up smoking so he could save up enough money to go to flight engineering school. He'd chosen to repress his natural tendency towards sloppiness so he could graduate with honors and get the best job offers. He'd chosen not to follow Kris when she transferred to Red Dwarf a few years back, which he'd regretted like a moping dog all the way up until he'd looked into Ace's eyes and seen what he'd been missing all along. And he'd chosen to stay with Ace; to love him despite the risk of... what had just happened happening. And what he did know was this: other people _couldn't_ make choices for you, no more than they could make your heart beat or your cells rejuvenate. He looked deeply into Ace's eyes. "Then how come ya did?"

"He wanted me to. I would have let him down. He wanted me to... go be a hero." Bitterness saturated Rimmer's voice.

Spanners looked on quietly for a while, then started to shake. The shaking increased, and an odd, twisted look came to his face. A look that was all too familiar to Rimmer. He glared at Spanners, daring him to do what Lister would do after making that face. Strange, staccato noises came out of Spanners, until he could not hold it back, and started to laugh, brashly, openly, joyfully. Rimmer turned and tossed his wig in front of the shower door in the corner. Fine. The joke was on him. He was just tired, tired and filthy; he wanted a shower and a nap. He wanted to think about nothing. He wanted this doppelganger of Lister to take his love and his sweetness and his jokes somewhere else.

"Oh smeg, sorry," Spanners gasped. "Sorry. It's just..."

Rimmer did not listen. He struggled out of his slimy coat, tossing it on top of the wig.

"That's..." Spanners laughed again. "That's exactly what happened to him and me!"

"Tired of all this stupid smegging bullshit," Rimmer muttered, pulling at his shirt.

Still laughing, shaking, perhaps mostly out of the sheer relief it gave after all this tension, Spanners finally managed to control himself. "Sorry. Didn't mean to laugh, but, well..." He shook his head. Everything about this was so absurd. He watched Rimmer toss his shirt onto the pile with a squish. "The only reason he went off to do his heroics in the first place is because he thought I wanted him to!"

Rimmer turned his head to look at Spanners, slime dripping down from face to splat on his torso. "And you sent him off for what? Laughs?"

"Because I thought that was what HE wanted! Talk about smeg soup, eh?"

Was there a Lister somewhere who did not push and pull and play with Rimmer? "None of the Listers in any dimension thinks we actually know what we want, eh?"

Spanners closed his eyes, smiling sadly. He turned his head away. "There's truth in that. Though I'd've hit ya for saying that back before me and Ace got together. But it's the truth, that is." You always made your own choices. But that didn't stop other people from forcing you into a situation where making the wrong one seemed like the only way out. He'd done that. Who knew how many other Listers had, too?

Rimmer nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Spanners looked at Ace, his head tilted. Despite the differences, him being in here right now was worse than a bad idea; that much was becoming apparent. "Listen... I've messed around with ya enough. I'll get out of yer hair. Just," he hesitated. "Think about what I said, will ya?"

Rimmer sighed. "And if he doesn't want me..."

"And what if he _does_ want ya? If he's as daft an idiot as me, and right now he's worried sick about ya, nothing to do but worry and fret over what a fool he was to let ya go? What then, eh, _Ace_?" That's yer name, he thought. Yer name and yer job, no matter how you came by it. Now you have to live it.

Rimmer quirked up one corner of his mouth. "Right... and I'll bet you.. whatever the hell you people bet with around here - that he doesn't."

"Ye'll never know unless ya try." Spanners turned, about to leave. "Think about that. You'll _never_ know".

Rimmer nodded at his feet. He unfastened his boots and toed out of them, feeling incredibly nasty - in every way.

All thoughts gone now, save for what he needed for basic operation of his body, Spanners opened the door. "Take care, man. And," he gave that slight smile again, one that made Rimmer turn back to his boots after looking up quickly, "make him proud, would ya?"

"I try," Rimmer grated, watching Spanners leave. The man seemed to take everything out of the room with him; hope, enthusiasm, affection. He pulled off his socks and trousers, then kicked the pile of clothes into the shower and turned it on. He switched to soft-light, letting the slime and dirt fall to the ground with a splat, and stepped into the stream to rinse off his light bee. He felt vastly horny, and felt equally guilty for being so horny. That was someone else's Lister, someone else's love, someone else's kiss. He stood there, watching slime run along the tile in sickening rivulets.

 

"This was a very bad idea." It was, Lister felt, the understatement of the century; nay, considering their situation, the last... whatever millions of years were called. He said it anyway, not finding any appropriate alternatives.

Kochanski, seated opposite him on the narrow bunk, her shirt half-way over her head in that manner which only seems practical in the heat of a sexual moment, rolled her eyes. She breathed away a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "You don't say," she groused, cradling her left wrist in her right hand. Those metal bunks were more solid than they looked, especially if you found your wrist being banged up against it by a person weighing considerably more than you did.

Noticing this, Lister winced. "Sorry."

"Not your fault." It had been, but what the hell. She just wanted this awkward conversation to be over so she could get out of here and forget this even more awkward entire incident and just hide under her bunk for the next three myrs. Unless, she frowned, that was the term for 6,022 1367 (36) x 10^23? She was always getting those two mixed up. No, wait, that one was definitely mol. Definitely. It was important she get it right, she thought, with increasing desperation, because it would look rather silly if she tried to hide for an Avogadro's Constant number of years.

"I'm not normally this clumsy..."

"Look, forget about it." Terms from chemistry and astronomy were converging in her mind, trying to form some sort of revolutionary new shame-related branch of science.

"It's just, it's been a while, and..."

"I said, let's just forget about it!"

"Right."

"Right."

The evening, Lister grumbled internally, had began so promisingly. They'd been celebrating finally being out of range of Red Dwarf, and the fact that they still had a whole crate of wine which wasn't urine re-cyc. Lister didn't like wine; it gave him a headache and made him slightly uneasy for reasons that had become blurry over the years, but at least it was alcoholic. He had no idea how many bottles worth he'd drunk by the time he and Kris had stumbled into her quarters, but he did remember muttering some pretext about wanting to see if they could do something about those pesky pipes.

His next clear memory was of Kris trying to lick his tonsils, which only served to drive home the fact she wasn't _his_ Kris, because his Kris could hardly stick her tongue out of her own mouth. Ah, but he'd been drunk, and it had been a while, and he'd let her push him onto that neatly made, yet far too narrow mattress, and the rest had been an undignified struggle of limbs, lips (and, unfortunately, teeth), and clothing, until they'd sobered up enough to end up here, horny, forlorn and discontent.

Kochanski sighed, and looked at the man who had just proven beyond any reasonable doubt that he was most certainly not, nor could he ever be, _her_ Dave. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him. This messy debacle had not been the fault of either of them; they'd both been looking for someone else in one another's bodies, and they hadn't found it. But at least she'd known who she was looking for. Dave... Dave had been looking for two different people and trying to imagine it was neither of them.

And so they sat there, the two of them, at a loss for words and actions both, until the uneven klaxon of what had been informally dubbed "vaguely light-taupe" alert, named after the only colored bulb they'd been able to get a hold of, sounded across the 'bug like a hallelujah of relief.

 

When Rimmer landed in Starbug's docking bay, only Kryten was there to greet him. While another Ace might have noticed a certain cool reserve in Kryten's manner, Rimmer, who was only used to more hostile and resentful dealings with Kryten, found the mechanoid's manner excessively fawning. Kryten grasped Rimmer's right hand in both of his, exclaiming his delight at Ace's return, asking how he was, asking what he had been doing, and asking if he would like to see Mister Lister, all without a pause for Rimmer to answer.

Rimmer finally got a word in edgewise to the effect that Kryten was a hell of a chap, and yes, thanks, he would love to see Davey-boy again. Kryten effused for another few minutes, then lead the way down to the sleeping quarters. Rimmer was surprised that Lister was not waiting at the airlock to greet him, as he had been waiting to greet the other Ace, so many years before. He was rather disgusted at the dread that was choking his throat as he and Kryten made their way down to Lister's room. Who was he; Ace Rimmer, seasoned space adventurer, or a twelve-year-old? The latter, apparently, and he just hoped that he could control his petulance when he discovered what he felt he was already well on his way to discovering - that he had been completely right, and Spanners wrong.

They stopped at Lister's room, and Rimmer bit his lip as Kryten sounded the chime. He paused, and both of them waited for an uncomfortable half-minute. "Mister Lister?" Kryten asked, glancing nervously at Rimmer as he banged on the door with one metal arm. They waited through another uneventful minute. "Oh my heavens, I have no idea where he might be!" Kryten fussed as he turned and trotted his high-kneed way down the corridor. Rimmer followed, his mind a whirl of thoughts as to where Lister might indeed be, none of them good.

"Well, no worries, Kryters, old chum," he called as he followed Kryten down the corridor, "he'll turn up soon enough." Rimmer was not, now, certain if he wanted Lister to or not. What he wanted to do was leave. Coming back had been a bad idea. Kryten mumbled absent-mindedly to himself as he paused a little way down the corridor. "Still have Cat aboard?" Rimmer asked, to fill the gap. He hoped not.

"I could have sworn he said he was going to retire," Kryten mumbled, "about the same time..." he looked up as Rimmer's question penetrated to his silicon brain. "Oh, certainly, sir!" He wondered where _he_ had got to.

Drat, thought Rimmer. "Ah, we should give him a shout. Bet he's looking hotter than a nuclear explosion in Gambia." Kryten nodded, looking distracted, and walked down the hall more slowly, and stopped at the quarters that used to be Rimmer's. Rimmer bit his tongue in annoyance, wanting to walk right on past. But as he drew close to Kryten, the door opened, and Lister stumbled out, one hand pulling his pants up, the other trying to fasten them. "What's going on, Krytes?" he asked, breathlessly.

Rimmer stopped, suddenly, halfway hidden behind the mechanoid. More thoughts were whirling through his head, an even more confusing set than the last. Lister was in his old room. Lister was doing something that involved a lack of pants. Lister looked better than he remembered; a little older, his face more mature and serene - downright beautiful. Lister was not looking at him. Someone was emerging from behind Lister - a female someone, vaguely familiar, her hair ruffled, her top halfway off. Rimmer felt his face turn to ice.

"Oh, sir! I have the most wonderful news!" Kryten gushed, appearing, perhaps, happier than he had been when Rimmer arrived. Lister turned, slowly, to note the figure that stood off to the side and behind Kryten. His hands fell from only half-fastened pants. Gay centerfold, his mind volunteered, unhelpfully. Big Boys in Boots, it added. Apart from that, it didn't seem to be working. Kochanski stared, not seeming to notice that her top was almost off.

Rimmer tried to pull something useful out of his brain, which was a morass of repeated inflections of "smeg," "hell," bastard," "shit," and "leave." He nodded politely at the girl. Kryten stepped away, a broad grin on his angular face. Rimmer took a deep breath. Ace. Be Ace. "I don't think I've had the _pleasure_..." he said to the woman in a deep voice. He could not help the inflection on the last word. He stared at her; he was unsure what would happen if he looked at Lister. Starbug might melt.

Kochanski had no idea why she felt the totally irrational need to giggle uncontrollably as this person - who could be none other than the Ace Rimmer Lister had told her of - greeted her. He looked rather different than she'd expected. Lister had told her he was like Rimmer, only much better-looking, but that wasn't it, exactly. The man in front of her bore more or less exactly the same face as the man she'd once gagged at the thought of copulating with. The difference lay in the way he used those features; what sparkled behind those eyes, which, while exactly the same color as the one's she'd seen in Rimmer's snarky face, were somehow here a brilliant hazel rather than an indefinable murky brownish green. It was all an act, probably; most people as flirtatious as this were doing it on purpose, in her experience, but it was a damn fine act. She noticed her almost-off top suddenly, and pulled it back into place quickly enough to bend time. "Hi..." she mumbled, blushing slightly.

Rimmer tried to turn to Lister. He could not. He looked at a wall panel and nodded curtly at where he knew the other man must be standing. "Been a while." His mouth quirked, and he covered it by turning back to Kochanski and holding out his hand. "Ace Rimmer."

Lister breathed. That was enough of a challenge, for now. He could only stare at Rimmer, his eyes filled to the brim as a sudden understanding of his true feelings for the man hit him like the sledgehammer that Petersen had accidentally whacked him with on his first duty shift, before the higher-ups paired him with Rimmer. Rimmer, who was here now. Rimmer, who he l...

"K... Kristine. I... I mean..." Why on earth was she stuttering? She stopped doing that when she was five! "Kristine Kochanski. Charmed!"

Kochanski. It all fell into place, like the lid of a coffin falling shut. Kochanski. The word echoed in a million different inflections, all in Lister's voice. Kochanski this, Kochanski that. Future plans. Reminiscing. Regrets. How much he sodding loved that woman so. The woman standing in front of Rimmer was not exactly the same Kochanski as had served with them on Red Dwarf; she had those small oddities that come with a dimensional alternate. A little taller, face a little less angular. Probably other differences. Rimmer did not know her well enough to tell. Lister fecking well did, though, he thought. Lister had done it. He had gotten his Kochanski back. They were heading for Fiji, for Lister's dream, with his dream woman. A pointless fury was boiling in Rimmer's hologrammatic viscera. But there was no need for that; he would gain nothing from a scene. He would be gracious. He would be charming. Even if it killed him. He smiled an appealing smile, something he had been practicing for the past five years and only recently perfected, and kissed her hand. "Likewise." He cocked his head at where he had last seen Lister standing. "Lovely lady you've snagged for yourself, Davey-" he choked on the 'boy.' No, this was no boy.

Lister eyed this display with some confusion, his heart sinking as that slowly gave way to chilling realization. "Hey, listen... It's not..." He eyed Kris, not wanting to embarrass her.

The 4000 series were issued with the ability to make their eyes sparkle slightly, either in mischief or in delight. Kryten's eyes sparkled slightly - he took not a little pride in it. "Oh, yes, you haven't met Miss Kochanski. Look - why don't you get acquainted, then come up to the midsection for a nice tea with scones?" He rubbed his blocky hands together.

Scones. Lister tried to remember what that meant.

Rimmer heard Lister's voice, but could not hear words in it. All he could hear was that voice saying Kochanski, Kochanski, Kochanski, millions of times. "Sounds magnificent, Kryters. Nobody makes them like you, eh?" He released Kochanski's hand and clapped the mechanoid solidly on the shoulder. Kryten beamed.

What on Earth was Rimmer doing with Kris, Lister thought, his eyes glued to the slightly shiny man in the ridiculous clothes.

"I've heard so much about you," Kochanski gushed, disgusted with herself for falling under Ace's spell so easily, but unable not to do so all the same. Oh well, sometimes you just had to allow yourself a little fun. She wondered what he looked like under all that bacofoil.

Rimmer turned from Kryten, facing a spot halfway between the mechanoid and... Kochanski. "Ah, exaggerations. Don't believe a word Dave says about me." He almost choked on the last sentence.

Lister licked his lips, turning his head from Rimmer to Kochanski and back. Something was going on between them, no doubt, but he had no idea what. He was no better at reading Rimmer than he was Kris.

Well, Kochanski thought, looking Rimmer up and down, I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much. If his Rimmer had been even a shadow of this, she had to admit, no wonder Dave missed him so.

Kryten shook his head, clasping his hands. "Ah, no, Mister Ace is magnificent, Miss Kochanski, ma'am!" He nodded, looked at the motionless trio, and cleared his throat. "I'll go start the water boiling." His whistling faded as he walked down the corridor towards the midsection.

Lister felt he should contribute in some way. "Erm, yeah, he's really grand, he is. Big man. And..." he faltered, "that..."

Rimmer turned to Lister, looking at a spot half a meter over his head and frowning. "Ah, fifth wheel here; nothing could top the top-flight crew on this Bug." Yes, he had no purpose here. He had learned what he had come here to learn. That was all. Killing false hope is always a good thing. It leaves one free. Yes.

Lister looked at Rimmer desperately, trying to communicate confusion, loss, love, everything.

Kris noted the tension between the two, and her intelligence tapped her momentary infatuation with Ace on the shoulder and cleared its throat. "Oh, nonsense; I'm sure you and Dave have a lot of catching up to do - don't you, Dave?" She smiled at Lister, noting with interest the way he looked at Rimmer, his erratic breathing, the slight flush in his cheeks. Yes indeed, Ace probably was a lot like Dave's Rimmer.

Rimmer raised his eyebrow at that spot over Lister's head. "Dullsville on this end, my dear..."

His words overlapped with Lister's. "Yeah... You could say that."

Rimmer glanced back at Kris. He did not want that bloody woman to stay. He did not want to be alone with Lister. Hell, what to do? Run back to his ship. DJ out of their lives, and never come back.

Kris flashed an odd smile at each man in turn. "I'll just go up and see if Kryten needs any help, shall I?" Lister watched her go, feeling like an anchor was being taken away from him.

"I'm sure Lister would hate to be deprived of your lovely presence," Rimmer said, quailing at the almost desperate note in his voice. He sighed softly as she trotted away, laughing gently over her back. He folded his arms and looked down the corridor after her.

Too soon for it to be safe, really, Lister turned, and whispered, lovingly, softly; "Rimmer..."

Rimmer frowned deeply. Lister should know better than to speak to him like that. Those were lover's tones, not friend's tones. The man had no idea what words like that _did_ to someone whose... simulated heart was simulating breakage.

"Arn..." Lister whispered in the same tone.

Rimmer could not take it. He spoke loudly, as if to a convention hall, in Ace's voice. "Looks like you're doing well, here." He nodded. "Lovely ship..."

The voice made, if possible, even less sense than the words it spoke, to Lister, who could only mope in confusion as Ace circled around him. Wasn't this his Rimmer? But it had to be; every single one of Lister's senses screamed that it was.

"Lovely... lady," Rimmer grated. "Just came back to make sure all was good with you."

"What?" All Lister wanted to do was leap into a bone-crushing hug, but Rimmer's manner did not invite it. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure this wasn't just another dream yet. It had the surreal qualities of a dream, that was for certain.

"Looks like it is, eh?" Dammit, he could be friendly. Matey. He worked up a smile that did not touch his eyes, and caught Lister with a completely manly clap on the shoulder. He dropped his hand immediately.

It very well could be a dream, indeed. Many of them started out like this; ambiguous banter, impersonal touches, that irresistible tension that had always existed between them, which, until now, he'd dismissed as anger. Lister looked up at Rimmer's face, overcome with emotion. If this was a dream, this was the point where the Ace mask would be dropped, and Rimmer would lean down to kiss him, and from there it could go any which way. Quite often, Lister would grab Rimmer, slamming him against the wall, tearing off his jacket, relishing the sounds of lust and wanting he'd make, reaching into those tight trousers, alternating stroking and pausing until Rimmer begged for mercy, then tearing off the trousers too, and sucking him dry. He closed his eyes, anticipating, trying to be ready for anything.

"Happy for you, Dave, really am," Rimmer forced out, just as heartily.

"Why?" Lister asked quietly, confused. He'd been bloody miserable up until now. The worst thing about prison had been the aimlessness; they'd found Red Dwarf, which had been the goal keeping him sane and motivated after Rimmer had gone, and there had been no-one for him to antagonize anymore, really, and that hadn't exactly worked out well. There had been nothing for him to look forward to anymore, hardly any reason for anything... until now. One arm lingered between the two of them, not quite reaching out to touch, still wondering what this was.

Rimmer shifted back very slightly, almost imperceptibly. He did not want to be touched. Not by Lister. "Life is good, eh?"

Lister frowned, shaking his head. Why did he keep saying that? What the hell was he implying? "What do you mean? It's been hell without you, man..." The frustration of having Rimmer so close, having finally admitted to himself, fully, how much he loved him, was beyond frustrating.

Rimmer turned again to look up the corridor towards the midsection, almost longingly. Lister was overdoing it. He did not have to pretend to such excessive affection. "Had a hell of a time without you, too," he replied, brusquely.

"I've," Lister paused, trying to phrase this correctly. "I've missed you so much..." It was almost a choke.

"I'm sure your aim will improve. With a little practice." Rimmer started to walk towards the midsection, wanting tea, wanting lots of people around, wanting things to look at and listen to that did not make him feel like a huge steaming pile of smeg. And because he could not resist a jibe, in return, and because Kochanski, that blasted woman, had her shirt yanked unceremoniously halfway over her head, sign of an overly hurried session, he added, "Practice makes perfect, Davey-boy - in everything."

What _was_ this? Hissing, not wanting to reveal his true identity, Lister whispered "Arn! What the smeg are you _on_ about?" He ran after him, grabbed his suit, and turned him around. Enough was enough. "What's yer smegging problem?" he asked, angry.

Touching. Grabbing. Lister truly had no idea what that _did_. As far as Rimmer was concerned, this conversation was over. What more was there? The tale of finding her? Plans for the future? Details of their sexual exploits? What, did he want to rub Rimmer's face in it? Laugh at him for coming back, hoping to fall to his feet and beg him to love his smeghead ex-bunkmate? Tease him for being so erect at the mere smell that this proximity of Lister afforded him that he could hold open lifts from the opposite end of the hall? Enough. Rimmer grabbed Lister's arms and flung them off. He lost his Ace voice. " _My_ smegging problem?" he hissed.

"Yeah!"

"Keep your grotty hands off of me," Rimmer growled.

Lister's heart fell. His anger lingered. His emotions were all a jumble, and he'd never been much good at those. Not even crosswords, he thought, incoherently. "I'm... I thought..."

Rimmer counted to ten, internally. Not nearly enough. But it would do. "Look," he sighed. "We made our choices, yes? And some, a little more." You chose for me, after all, and wasn't that what I told Spanners? He should have believed me.

This was not a dream, then. This was reality; where, after all, Rimmer had never given any indication whatsoever that he even liked Lister. That's why Lister had nudged him towards being Ace in the first place; so he could go off somewhere else and have a shot of happiness. It had been so long, and he'd spent so much time trying to sort of what he felt himself, that he'd forgotten this rather, he realized now, crucial fact.

"Look, it looks like you have a lovely thing going here," Rimmer grated. Trying hard, so hard, to be polite. He waved towards the midsection, towards... that woman.

"Thing? What thing? Ain't nothing going on in this place but boredom and endless space, man." It was the truth. Yesterday they'd even tried playing the opera game. Lister had fallen asleep around the round two, when Kris and Kryten had started arguing about which key the overture to "La Boheme" was in.

Nothing? Nothing? Rimmer felt one eyebrow raise up, very high. "And shirtless women."

Smegging hell. Oh, smegging hell. "What... _Kris_?" He pronounced her name to rhyme with 'space weevil.'

What the smeg was Lister on? This was no way to talk about your lover. This was the way for him to talk about Lister's lover, behind both of their backs. "Yes, that lovely woman. If you want to keep her, treat her with a little more respect."

"Rimmer," Lister said, harshly, "she's not mine."

Rimmer paused and closed his eyes, forcing himself to remember the sight of Lister with Kris over his shoulder, both half-dressed, both flushed, both with kiss-swollen lips, saliva glistening in a sticky patch on the side of Lister's face. "She sure looks it."

Lister laughed hollowly. "You're the only one who thinks so. She's decked me more than once."

"Good for her," Rimmer said, twisting his hands. He was starting to have an idea of what game Lister might be playing.

Lister laughed at this, feeling the absurdity. "Look, is that it? Me and her... that's not going anywhere. Never was nowhere." He started to feel resigned.

"You use people too much," Rimmer grated. "Her for sex..." and him for what? He was playing down Kris, honestly or not, to get something out of Rimmer. He did not want to know what it was. Too many ideas were swirling around in his head, and at least one was feeding his libido pointlessly. He shook his head.

Sex with Kris! Well, he supposed you _could_ call what they'd been doing sex, if you'd been educated at a conservative religious school in the 20th century, and didn't know where babies came from. His eyebrows shot towards the roof. "Hah! If only..." He paused, his foot in mouth. Was he determined to screw this up?

If only you were better at it, Rimmer thought. Or better prepared for me to come by. I'll drop a card, next time.

"She'd kick me in the groin if I as much as breathed on her," Lister sighed. "Tonight... Tonight was a fluke. Big mistake." Yes, timing of the fecking century, that was.

"Quite a fluke," Rimmer replied, in that same grating voice. That was not a fluke. They were both sober, or he'd eat his wig. "Look, I haven't had tea in ages." He did not want more games and heartbreak. He wanted to leave. "I just wanted to see how you're doing. You look great. Really. Great." His voice displayed a tired insincerity that he did not feel. Great? The man looked magnificent, delectable. He looked more desirable than should be strictly legal.

The ennui that had gripped him for the last few months had slipped away for a few moments, but now Lister felt it rushing back. He leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the newly polished floor, overcome with tiredness. "Yeah. Thanks," he replied in a sullen voice.

"One of the other Listers told me to drop by and say hi. So I did, OK? Hi. Sorry I came by at an inconvenient time. It's nice to see you. Really." Rimmer bit his tongue, very hard.

Lister had no more emotions to feel. "Well," he said flatly, "I wish I could thank him, somehow. At least..." a half-sob escaped, "at least I got to see ya again." He looked away, with nothing more to draw on. He leaned his head on his drawn-up knees. Since when did Rimmer take orders from any David Lister? Why had he come back, why now? To rub Lister's face in his own success? 'Just wanted to see if he was all right' - what garbage. Where'd he been a month ago, when they were trapped in prison, eh? Lister would have been angry if he'd had any anger left.

Rimmer released his tongue from between his teeth. "Oh, you could thank him." Yes, we could show him just how wrong he was. Bloody hopeless chirpy romantic. His eyes narrowed in a very mean expression. "I have to stop back in that dimension, anyway. I won a bet. Have to collect."

Lister could not reply. He was concentrating on not bursting into... something. He managed to look up somehow, his face flustered, his eyes watering. Rimmer was looking down at him, his face shaded from the overhead light. "Yer leaving... so soon?" Lister asked, hopelessly.

"What should I stay for?" Rimmer ground out. To watch you two moon over each other? To find out what game you're playing, what prank is in the works?

Lister closed his eyes and bit his lip. "I suppose I was hoping..." He had no hope left.

Hope. Rimmer closed his eyes and thought of hope. The hope of the sincere stare of lovely brown eyes on the psi-moon, dashed as soon as they were off. The hope of an earnest young mustached face, dashed by a flushed Lister with his pants half-on, his dream-girl over his shoulder. Rimmer sighed, very quietly, his shoulders shaking. "Bad idea," he replied, softly.

Lister's lips were tight. Tears were running down his cheeks, now. "I'm sorry, man," he muttered back.

"I am, too," Rimmer replied, as softly as before, his eyes still shut.

Lister stumbled to his feet. Rimmer opened his eyes and stepped back. "Did... Did ya mean that? About letting me come with?"

Rimmer nodded. "I could take you on a little trip to... the dimension with..." his lip quirked. "Spanners."

Lister swallowed. "Spanners? Ace's... I mean, that Ace's... The one..." he shook his head. "You know what I mean; that Spanners?"

"The one who married Kochanski?" Rimmer asked, his voice catching. "It's not exactly the same one. Just very close."

"And he told you to come here?"

"Yes." Rimmer managed to spit out.

And you listened to him? Lister gave a soft smile. Did he give lessons in Arnold Rimmer negotiation? "Then I would like to meet him. I owe him... a lot." He did. Seeing Rimmer again, no matter in what form, was... Well, it was something. He'd probably figure out what after he'd had a chance to sort himself out.

Rimmer's lip quirked slightly. A lot. For what, Rimmer did not care to know. "Then you should meet him."

'I'll get to be with Rimmer,' echoed over and over in Lister's mind. "I'd like that. Very much." He felt dead tired.

Rimmer took a deep breath and channeled Ace. "Then that's set!" he replied in that loud, confident voice. The voice that was not him.


	2. Chapter 2

They'd had tea. Tea and scones. Tea and sodding scones, for smeg's sake. Scones. Tea. Lister couldn't get over it; it was too absurd. Not that everyone except him hadn't seemed to have enjoyed a _marvelous_ time. Kochanski, Kryten, even Cat - who had, incredibly, cut his mid-afternoon snooze short for this - had fawned and gushed over the person they thought had honored them with a visit. And everything had been so lovely and scrumptious and tea and scones and sodding one lump or two; how he'd hated every fucking minute of it - wasn't it wonderful? He'd felt like he was in another dimension already, one where everyone was happy but him.

Later, seated on Ace's cot (yes, Ace; he certainly wasn't Rimmer anymore, by any stretch of the imagination), he wondered at the relative softness of it compared to what he had imagined Rimmer would have wanted for himself. It was the only place for him to sit in this craft, which had only barely been built for one person. It really was amazing what they'd managed to fit into this small ship, though, Lister had to admit. There were boxes neatly filled with what he vaguely recognized as Rimmer's books and music, and hence did not feel the need to investigate further. He'd once given into his curiosity, back on the Dwarf, and leafed through an entire volume of "Hypnosis for Fun and Profit;" he had lost his appetite for a full half-hour. Years of bunking with the man had given Lister an almost pathological fear of Hammond organs, so the music discs were no great temptation, either. There was a small rack of clothing in the back, where two or three spare bacofoil suits hung, neatly pressed, but no ironed underwear hung next to them. It made Lister feel almost uncomfortable - but then again, most things in this cramped space did.

The landing boys (some of whom were girls, but who was counting?) were delighted to see Ace, and bantered with him heartily as he took the craft down. He felt a great relief at being able to talk freely and meaninglessly with them, after the long, agonizing trip of pointedly _not_ talking to the person in the back. What was there to say? He felt almost jubilant, and tried to pretend it was all due to taking the DJ ship in for a landing. It was a lovely piece of work, responding precisely to the gentlest touch on the controls. "Hang on..." he called to the back of the ship, bringing it in for a decent enough landing. Calling back reminded him that he had said nothing else throughout the trip to who was back there, and his jubilation stepped down several notches.

The cot smelled acutely of Rimmer, who still, apparently, wore that appalling after-shave. Where did he get it from? Was there a secret stash somewhere? Lister had half a mind to search for it and dump it out the first air-lock they passed on the base, but other things were occupying his mind at the moment. Like the fact that these were the sheets that rubbed up against Rimmer's body every night, and maybe other times, when he brought girls back here - which Lister supposed he must. Did he sleep naked? Did he lie here alone, mulling over sexual exploits, doing what men generally do when horny and alone? Would a hologram doing that leave traces on the sheets? It was stupid to think this way, stupid to make himself more turned on that he already was, but he just couldn't get away from it. He felt a trace of shame, then annoyance at feeling ashamed, which was, in turn, overtaken by a new bout of horniness when he heard a soft sigh from the cockpit. Lister was turning into a mess of neurotic frustration; smeg it all, he was becoming Rimmer, just as Rimmer had become Ace. His stomach jolted as they landed, for reasons unconnected to the smoothness of said landing.

"I told them to let Spanners know I was coming - with a friend."

"Yeah?" Lister mumbled. He stroked the blankets on the cot.

Rimmer coughed. "Indeedy..." His voice trailed off. A friend. How hopelessly adolescent that sounded, on level with 'sleep-over.' As if the discomfort were a miasma that would disperse with a little air circulation, he popped the cockpit hatch and took a deep breath. He cleared his throat, putting on the persona of Ace for the benefit of the technicians who were walking towards the sleek marvel that was the DJ ship. He very pointedly did not look at Lister as he unhooked his crash belt. That would not help him be Ace.

Lister's heart broke all over again as Ace took over, leaving Rimmer smeg knew where. Lister got up, reluctantly, wanting to linger and wallow in that nest of frustration just a little while longer. Man, what was wrong with him?

Rimmer exited the ship, not looking back. He hopped to the ground with aplomb, putting on a bit of a show. Lister felt oddly proud of this, for about two seconds. Rimmer was not his to be proud of.

The fact that Lister made a rather impressive exit himself didn't register with anyone but Rimmer, who tried very hard to ignore it. He shook hands enthusiastically with a few crewpeople, distributing convincing flattery like largesse. He'd gotten very good at this. But the crewpeople all had busy schedules, and he finally had to turn back to Lister, not meeting the other man's eyes. Lister was not the last man alive, in this dimension; people in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors bustled about all around. But this did not explain Lister's unusual passivity and quiet. He had never been this subdued, even back on Red Dwarf, over three million years ago. "Up for a walk?" Rimmer asked.

This meant more time; a further delay of their inevitable separation, probably for good this time. Lister nodded.

"This way, then..." Rimmer strode out of the hanger and walked towards Spanners's quarters, hoping to god that he would not get lost and look like a twit in front of Lister. His ego was in a precarious enough place already with respect to the other man. Lister followed, still displaying that atypically subdued manner.

While he did not normally get claustrophobic in spaces as large as this, Lister felt like the walls were closing in on him. It did not feel quite like claustrophobia, anyway; he was simply not happy. Rimmer started to nanner on pointlessly about things he had done since leaving Starbug; strange stories that Lister did not follow. He merely listened, keeping his eyes on Rimmer.

Rimmer did not exactly get lost, but took two significant wrong turns, so they walked for at least half an hour. Rimmer grew increasingly nervous at Lister's silence. He talked more rapidly to make up for it, and his voice kept slipping back into his own voice, the nasal buzz that was somehow the polar opposite of Ace's suave tones.

The rise and fall out of Rimmer's natural register was soothing, almost musical. Lister listened to it, ignoring the actual words. They weren't important anyway; you could tell that from the tone.

Rimmer stopped at the correct door, eventually, with relief. "Here we are."

This was too soon. Soon they would leave, and then... "Right."

Rimmer hit the door chime and stepped back, crossing his arms defensively. His finger had barely left the button when the door slid back to reveal a questioning, eager face. "Spanners!" Rimmer said, with excessive heartiness.

On seeing the two of them, Spanners's face erupted into a huge smile. He knew he'd been right, of course, but there was still such a delightful relief in _knowing_. He looked towards the man standing next to Ace, all curiosity.

Lister was somewhat taken aback at this alternate version of himself, who seemed to think he was capable of growing decent-looking facial hair. Lister had given that up long ago, but then again, this... him... seemed to be rather younger.

"You owe me... whatever it is you bet, old chum," Rimmer continued. His eyes flicked back between Lister and Spanners, taking in their obvious, superficial differences with interest. The small age gap. Spanners's neatly trimmed hair and moustache. Lister's tattered leather jacket. Spanners's spit-polished boots.

Spanners looked from Lister to Rimmer and back again, his face falling. "You mean..." He could not quite believe it. "But then why?"

Lister followed Spanners's facial movements, utterly lost. It appeared not to be a good day for making sense, generally speaking.

Rimmer raised an eyebrow. "He wanted to meet you." He continued to look back and forth, amazed at the more subtle differences that, somehow, only highlighted their likenesses. Spanners's sharper jawline. His slightly darker skin.

"Ah." Spanners sighed deeply. This Ace certainly did have issues. Even now, the two of then clearly hadn't talked, _really_ talked. But they'd come here. Maybe there was some hope after all.

Realizing that he'd been standing this entire time with his mouth gaping, staring dumbly, Lister felt he had to weigh in. "Er. Hiya."

Rimmer stepped back, very quietly and slowly, looking at them. Even their mannerisms were slightly off from each other. Lister seemed to slouch, even when standing to attention, walking with a slight swagger. He had a flowing, relaxed way of moving that made watching him feel like you were seeing some sort of complicated dance performance. Spanners stood ramrod-straight, his movements precise, but awkward, as though he were forcing them. And yet their facial expressions were mirror images of each other; their openness, the expressiveness of their full lips.

The three of them stood there, for a few befuddled moments, just taking one another in. Finally, Spanners, used as he was to dragging himself out of reveries, came back to reality. "Oh, wait, where are my manners; come on in!"

Rimmer coughed. "Oh. You two have a lot to catch up on, I'm sure. I should leave you..."

No, Rimmer couldn't leave now, Lister fretted. He'd leave soon enough and be gone forever. "No. That's no trouble..." he looked at Spanners, trying to signal this, hoping this other him was close enough to him in spirit to read his mind.

Spanners saw the look, and breathed a mental sigh of relief. Yes, everything was all right with the world after all. It just needed some adjustments. And what did mechanics do, after all, but adjust things that needed fixing? "Oh, I'm sure we've got nothing to hide from you, Ace old pal!"

Rimmer frowned very deeply. He could not take two Listers at once, himself sitting like an incorrectly placed comma between the one he loved and the one who had loved another version of him. "It's no trouble for me, really." It would be a great deal of trouble for me to stay, he added silently.

Spanners licked his lips, and Lister, knowing what he'd be thinking when looking at Rimmer and licking his lips like that, felt an odd stab of jealousy.

"Look, either ya both should come in, or I'm coming out." Spanners gave a laugh that contained no humor. "We can't be standing here like this!"

Lister looked to Rimmer just as Rimmer's eyes flicked to Lister. The hologram immediately stared at his boots. To hell with it, Lister thought. He walked into the room. Spanners stepped aside to let him through, and looked expectantly at Rimmer.

Rimmer knew, somehow, that Spanners would run after him and make a scene if he walked away, in order to embarrass him into the room. It was the kind of thing that Lister would do, after all, he told himself. He walked in with great reluctance. Spanners grazed his side as he entered, and Rimmer put a few strides between them. He leaned against a wall very pointedly, crossing his arms. Spanners used his well-honed self-control for all it was worth to keep from chuckling; Ace's posture was just so overdone, so transparent!

Lister looked for a place to sit down, mostly because he wasn't sure how long he could deal with standing up. He felt as though all the energy in his body had been sucked out of him. Somehow, Spanners seemed to sense this, and indicated his bunk, which was neat to the point that Lister hesitated for a moment before disturbing those pristine sheets. It made him a little uneasy that a version of him, alternate or not, could live like this.

Spanners regarded both men, resisting the urge to just smack their heads together and leave them in here to sort things out. Impulsiveness never solved anything. "Does he know?" he asked, wanting to get to the point.

"About Ace? Yeah, I know," Lister replied, shifting a little on the uncomfortably clean bed.

Rimmer watched them, his forehead slightly furrowed. The same smegging short-fingered hands, with the same too-short nails.

Spanners looked at Lister, his eyes widening. "So you know..." he looked at Lister, "And yet you...?" He stopped, shaking his head. He'd been hoping that had been the problem, but apparently not. That they were both lovesick for one another was obvious, so what on Earth, Io, or Mimas was stopping them?

What were all these pointless, prying personal questions? Lister hadn't come here to be poked at by alternate versions of himself! "What's this about?" he asked, angrily.

For smeg's sake. Rimmer was not there to hash over this topic. It was as dead as... Arnold J. Rimmer. "He's in love with Kriss Kochanski," he said, more loudly than either of the Listers had spoken. "He's loved her since before I died."

Both turned, as one, to Rimmer. " _What_?" they asked, in horrified stereo.

"And now, he's got her," Rimmer finished.

"Rimmer, what are you on about?" Lister asked.

"He is?" Spanners asked, incredulous.

"No, I'm smegging not!" Lister yelled. He added, more quietly, "Not anymore." He glanced at Rimmer. "Not that it matters."

Not in love with her? This was taking the bull smeg too far, Rimmer fumed. "Did you stop loving her before or after you got her shirt off?" he asked, acidly.

How long could one night of drunken smeg-ups haunt him, Lister fretted, in despair. Well, one such night had stranded him on Mimas without his passport. He'd take years of that cruddy existence on Mimas, living out of a luggage locker, over this, though. He shook his head. "Look, I told you, nothing happened!" Spanners watched the two, bewilderment showing plainly on his face.

"In a room with your clothes off is not 'nothing,' where I come from."

"We got drunk, she came on to me, I didn't know..." Lister ran his fingers through his hair. One night. One sodding night they do this, not that _this_ had been anything more than vaguely unsatisfying groping and fondling, and it had to be the same night Rimmer decides to show his face again. "You weren't there!" Rimmer's attitude was starting to get to him. The smegging space hero clearly didn't want him, but he didn't want Lister to be with Kochanski either? Was somehow offended by the fact that Lister hadn't spent the entire rest of his life pining away for a man who didn't love him and was probably gone forever?

The silly adolescent wordplay was grating on his nerves. Especially in light of the fact that Lister had never made any blasted secret of how much he adored Kochanski. "Going on and on about wanting her hologram instead of me is not 'nothing.'"

Spanners leaned against the wall, pondering. Something was happening now, and he didn't want to stop it.

"Even the bloody Psirens knew!" Rimmer yelled, thinking of Starbug, of one grainy, Psiren-simulated image of that woman, of Lister's plaintive, hurt cry, 'Kochanski!' He had been ready to throw his life away on the _possibility_ it was real, a possibility lower than the chance of finding a simple cup of coffee in Seattle. "They knew what you want."

"Good for them," Lister grumbled. "I sure didn't." When had he stopped obsessing about Kochanski? When had his muddled, confused feelings for two dead people, only one of whom was still around, dissolved into the clear, warm glow he felt right now? Only today?

"It's hard, isn't it?" Spanners asked. Lister had almost forgotten about him.

"What do you mean?" Lister asked.

"Ready to risk your life for her..." Rimmer grated, ignoring Spanners. "The rest of ours, too."

Spanners, in turn, ignored him, speaking to Lister. "Took me a long time to figure out what my feelings for him were. But I did."

Lister nodded. "Fat lot of good it did me, though, once I did." Had it been when he'd turned around, his trousers around his ankles, Krissie hovering behind him, and seen who was standing in front of him? Or had it been when he'd seen what Rimmer _used_ to be like, back in that cruddy prison? No matter. No matter now.

Rimmer started to chew on his lip, fuming. Damn Kochanski. Damn Lister. Damn him. But most of all, damn Spanners, for making him rehash all of this. Did he want Rimmer to suffer for what happened to _his_ Ace? It wasn't Rimmer's smegging fault!

Lister stood, his voice desperate "Why are we even here? Rimmer doesn't want me; why'd he drag me here?" He turned to Spanners. "Look, I appreciate you sending him back to me. I really do. I'd have given anything just to see him again, and I got to. So thank you for that." He gave a faint smile.

Rimmer felt the corners of his mouth stretching down to his knees. Too thick, Davey-boy. Layin' it on too thick.

"Whatever else... That's not your fault," Lister continued. Rimmer huffed a breath out of his nose, irate. Whose fault was it, then?

Taking in the figure of the absolutely miserable looking older version of himself standing there, his face scrunched up from keeping back emotions, which Spanners normally did so well - and so, he would guess, did this Dave, too - Spanners moved forward, drawing this other Dave into a hug. He said nothing as the other man finally allowed himself to collapse into tears; just held him, keeping him safe.

Rimmer watched this display, his lip twisting. What the smegging hell did Lister have to be upset about? He kept himself propped against the wall, gripping his upper arms very firmly.

"It's all right," Spanners said, quietly, stroking Lister's back, giving Rimmer a meaningful look over Lister's shoulder. See him, he tried to signal. Get it, you stubborn bastard! Get how much he loves you! Rimmer glared at him. Ah well, he was _Rimmer_ , after all. Spanners turned back to Lister, gently saying in his general direction; "He still doesn't understand."

"No, I understand perfectly." Every trace of Ace was gone from Rimmer's demeanor. This was about him, about Arn. "I don't _want_ him." He pushed himself off of the wall, and took two steps towards the pair of bloody, meddling, insincere Listers, fuming.

Someone's arms were around him, was all Lister knew. Arms, and sometimes voices, saying things that didn't matter. Rationality was beyond him now; he'd felt too much, taken too much in, fecking processed enough about himself for a lifetime. He'd never broken down as hard as this, not even when he lost his first girlfriend. That had been hard enough; he'd locked himself in his room for weeks, writing emotional pseudo-gothic poetry and not eating. Finally, after days without proper sleep, he'd become convinced he was already dead, and had tried to walk through the wall into the bathroom, promptly concussing himself and landing himself more days in bed. But he'd been 14 at the time, and she'd been living down the street from him, and had stopped in for a quick snog and grope a few weeks later. This wasn't like that.

"I can't afford to bloody want him!" Rimmer yelled at both of them, almost spitting. "Monday, he loves Kochanski. Cannot bloody shut up about how he wants Fiji and sheep and cows and two sodding babies named Jim and Bexley." There came faint, choking, sobbing noises from Lister's direction, and Rimmer yelled more loudly to drown out the vary faint voice in him that suggested that they might not be unimportant. "Tuesday - what, he wakes up and wants me? So he _makes_ me leave?" He took a deep breath, needing a great deal of air to keep this volume up. "Wednesday, he brings over Kochanski from another fecking dimension. Pawing her on her bunk. Thursday - oh, we were drunk, it was nothing, I guess I want you instead?"

"And when did you realize you loved him, Arn?" It was Spanners's voice, identical to Lister's, but clearly separate, in some way or another, in Rimmer's mind.

Rimmer choked, his own voice lifting into a register that was far too high to satisfy his fury. "Who is he going to want on Friday, eh? It sure as smegging hell won't be me!"

"Easy thing for you, was it?" Spanners asked, knowing the answer. "Just something you knew all along, I expect."

"Who the smeg knows when," Rimmer choked, feeling defeated. They hadn't listened. They didn't care. "It doesn't damn well matter, does it?"

Suddenly, words with actual meaning reached through Lister's cocoon of detachment. A wet, ruffled face stuck up from Spanners's embrace. "You... what?" His voice had all the qualities of wet paper.

"He loves you," Spanners replied, quietly, giving it time to sink in.

"Of course I smegging love him!" Rimmer yelled. Did neither of them listen? "That's not the _point_!" He swung around to face the wall.

The world came into focus again, and Lister turned around, breaking Spanners's embrace, his face a mask of incomprehension. He must of misunderstood. "You love me?"

"What is the point, then?" Spanners asked.

"What _he_ wants," Rimmer grated. "I'm not going to fecking sleep with him today and have him get bored... tomorrow, next week, a month or two. It doesn't matter. He'll change his mind, eventually," Rimmer choked, all of the times Lister had tossed him aside like a used appliance crashing down on him, "he always does."

What _he_ wanted? What _Lister_ wanted? Holy sodding smeg, how could this not be clear to Rimmer by now? "Arn, I was lost without you! Years I was alone! Years! And yer gonna hold it against me that one night, one smegging night, I missed you so much I didn't know what I was doing, and ended up trying to make it with someone who fecking hates my guts!" He was almost shouting. And yet... Rimmer had said he _loved him_. Rimmer. Loved him. The words kept buzzing around his skull and interfering with other thoughts.

Rimmer could not look at him, look at his damned insincere face. "Just one night? Not bloody likely. How long did you want Kris? And you're telling me that's all gone, just like that?"

Lister tore at his hair. How many girlfriends had he had? He'd lost count. Did they count against him too? Why this weird obsession with Kris? What, a corner of his mind chuckled irreverently, like the weird obsession with her _you_ had? Lister told it to kindly shut the smeg up. "Kris is _dead_! Dead, dead; gone forever dead; the kind you don't wake up from. Yer not. And I _love_ you. You. Not her. You!" He sighed and stepped back, drained. "Why do I even bother..." Spanners put an arm around him, but Lister pushed him away. He needed to get out of here before he disintegrated completely.

Rimmer tried to glance back, but still could not bring himself to look at Lister. Yes, dead. They had both died on that ship. "No, I'm not. Just half-dead. Not quite me, not quite Ace."

"We know. We don't care," Spanners replied, quietly. Lister looked at him. Those eyes...

Rimmer found he could not look at Spanners, either. What the hell was wrong? They were people, just people. Sacks of carbon and oxygen and lies. He looked at each one out of the corner of his eye, half-turned.

Neither Lister nor Spanners knew how all this multiple dimension stuff worked. It wasn't that it was beyond them; they had just never felt the need to investigate it further. All they knew is that it seemed to be a fact, and that was all that mattered. And so they didn't really question how it was possible that, in the moment their not-wholly-identical eyes met, lightning bolts seemed to shoot through their brains, and they _knew_. "Look," Lister said, abruptly calm and composed. "This is really quite simple."

"Either you want him..." Spanners said, in exactly the same voice.

Lister continued, without a pause. "Or you don't. Either way..."

"You make a choice," Spanners finished. Both Listers looked to Rimmer, that unity which had connected them in ways they could not begin to imagine (nor much cared to) simmering between them, faintly visible, like hot air.

Rimmer turned towards them fully, his eyes wide. This harmony... it was insane, wrong. They were similar, but not the same person; there was no explanation for this. The voices, their accents almost identical, only the faintest of distinctions between them, speaking like one. He opened his mouth, and could not find a single sound to put in it.

"Now," Lister stated, firmly.

"Because this," Spanners continued.

"Can't go," Lister added.

"On," they both concluded. There was a faint crackle, as though of static.

Rimmer leaned back against wall, his mouth still slightly open, feeling shell-shocked. He licked his lips, looking from one to the other, seeing the same determined expression on the faces that had, after all, only superficial differences.

They spoke in unison, now. Walking, moving, thinking as one. It was, Lister reflected, not quite like being one person, one entity, but rather two people connected entirely, completely in sync. "He..." "I..." "Loves you." "Love you." They both stopped, mouths open, glancing at one another. Whatever had melded them together had passed, but something lingered, like the faint smoky smell that clings to the clothes in a smoker's closet.

Rimmer looked at them, each in turn, studying their open faces, looking for... something. Hell, he had no idea what. He had never been able to read Lister. What made him think that reading two at once would make it possible? He spoke, quietly, almost desperately, the only thing he could think of. "Of course I want to - want him. But..." he sighed.

Spanners began to speak, but seeing Lister open his mouth, yielded to him. "But?"

Rimmer's mouth worked, but nothing came out. Both Listers were walking towards him, determination on their faces. They were holding hands now, through some sort of unspoken agreement. "Where does it go?" he croaked, finally. "What does it mean?"

Spanners smiled. "Where do you want it to go?"

"What do you want it to mean?" Lister asked.

"Does it matter?" Spanners added. They were only an arm's length away, now.

Rimmer shook his head, bemused by the surreality of the entire scene. "I've spent so long convincing myself it would go nowhere," he said, harshly, "and meant nothing."

Spanners spoke from Rimmer's left "Ace... Arn..."

"I'm not your Ace," Rimmer said quietly, almost automatically.

Lister, on the right side of Rimmer, whispered, "Stop thinking so much." A faint smile touched his features, and he brushed his lips against Rimmer's cheek. He knew. He'd seen through Spanner's eyes, felt with his emotions, remembered his memories. He's seen himself and this Rimmer, this Arn, through those filters, and there was no hesitation in him now. Nothing could stop this.

"I can't help it," Rimmer muttered, looking from one to the other, desperately looking for differences, something to ground him in reality amid this unreality of dual Lister. The faintly darker skin of Spanners, which concealed a few scattered pock-scars that Lister lacked. The slightly greenish hazel of his eyes, the solid brown of Lister's.

Spanners breathed into Rimmer's left ear. "We know." His own doubts, to the degree that he had any, had vanished when he'd seen this Ace through Lister's eyes, and felt him with that Lister's heart.

Lister murmured, "That's OK," into his right. "Just relax, man." His lips formed a more solid kiss on Rimmer's cheek, and Rimmer's entire body started to shiver. Spanners snaked an arm around Lister as if to calm him. He felt like part of his own body.

Rimmer tried to back away, but he was already pressed to the wall. Lister's proximity was having an effect that his rationality could only resist for so long. "I can't be," he swallowed and licked his lips, "screwed and left by... even one Lister."

Lister breathed, "You won't be." Leave Rimmer? Impossible. Even if he'd wanted to.

Rimmer closed his eyes, hoping that the inability to see them might, somehow, help alleviate this confusion and fear. _Fear_? What kind of Space Adventurer was he? A petrified one, a mocking voice in the back of his head supplied.

"Ain't no way I'm ever leaving you," Lister finished. Rimmer could not stop shivering. Lister brushed his lips towards Rimmer's lips, Spanners all the while caressing Lister's back, breathing softly into Rimmer's ear. The closeness of Rimmer, the almost-touch was driving them both far past plain old "turned on".

Rimmer was confused and dazed by the two Listers. He reached one very unsteady hand toward Lister's hip, touching it gently. _His_ Lister. They were not the same. This one... was different. He could feel it.

It wasn't so much the fact that Rimmer was touching him, or that it was _Rimmer_ touching him, which made Lister move his hip upwards to try to increase the pressure of that contact. It was all of it; the longing, the dreamt-of possibilities, the undreamt-of ones - those in particular... Still feeling echoes of that bond with Lister, and urged on by the similarity of this person to _his_ Ace, Spanners put a hand lightly on Rimmer's arm.

Rimmer flinched at the hand of the copy, the duplicate, the one that was not, as his mind was frantically reminding him, _his_ Lister. He gripped that hip more firmly, eyes still closed.

That strange connection reformed as the eyes of both David Listers, nicknamed and not, met. To Rimmer, the effect was downright eerie, but to Lister and Spanners, it was like suddenly realizing you had a second body and a second brain. Although not, perhaps, as hellishly frightening as that would surely be. A thought passed instantaneously between them; they licked their lips and looked towards Rimmer, whose eyes were tightly closed. Spanners caressed Rimmer's arm lightly, wondering if it was him or Lister doing it.

Rimmer sighed at the hand on his arm. He knew, without looking, that it was Spanners, something in the feel of the man, and it disturbed him to his core that he could sense Lister - _his_ Lister - so well.

"Arn..." Lister whispered.

"What?" Rimmer gasped, smelling the cigarette smoke on his breath.

"Look at me," Lister finished.

Rimmer opened his eyes, his tendency to obey orders when his own motivation was lacking betraying him. He looked at Lister, that fear that he did not understand stirring within. Both Daves were close, now, and he could not help seeing that Spanners was staring at him as intensely as Lister, both expressions _wanting_ , in slightly different ways. Rimmer could not breathe. He did not trust himself to move at all.

Lister tried to make his eyes signal "I love you", then slowly moved towards Spanners, as in a synchronized ballet. The two Listers' lips met, their eyes never leaving Rimmer; falling into one another, tongues lashing against tongues, slowly, sensually. We are one, they thought. We love you. Rimmer couldn't hear them, but it felt right to have thought the words. The kiss woke something in both of them; a lust that had, up until then, been just barely kept under control by Lister, and was now sensed by Spanners as though it were his own. Lister leaned into Rimmer's touch on his hip, while Spanners tightened his touch on Rimmer's arm; both men feeling the actions of the other, wanting to draw Rimmer into the kiss, knowing that wasn't possible.

Rimmer wanted to struggle out of the grip on his arm, but that was more movement than he trusted himself to make. His grip on Lister's hip tightened as he watched their long, agile tongues dance in and out of each other's mouths, while neither men lost eye-contact with Rimmer. He felt a vague jealousy boiling in his gut - one less sharp but more deep than the one he had felt when Lister had exited the room with Kochanski - as Lister was kissed by... Lister. This made no sense. He drew in a sharp breath as both of them moaned; their voices, stripped of their slight artificial veneer of accent, were identical.

Both Daves broke the kiss, but not eye-contact. This otherworldly bond - wherever it came from - was fading, but a haze of lust was steadily taking its place. They both tried to pull Rimmer closer, Lister with his hip, Spanners with the grip on Rimmer's arm.

There was no way they both wanted him - Arn, smeghead, Risk diary, Hammond organs. Rimmer raised his free hand, trembling, to push his wig off. This is Arn, the bastard, he said, silently. This isn't Ace. Spanners smiled as Lister closed his eyes and moaned more loudly. The noise was hypnotic, and Rimmer found himself moving towards Lister, still gripping his hip tightly. He had tried. Any lingering responsibility belonged to Lister.

As he was feeling Spanners slipping away from his mind, Lister saw the slight inclination of Rimmer's head and rushed forward, leaning into the kiss with twice the fervor of what he had just displayed with Spanners. Finally, his entire being cried out; finally. There was no room for anything else in him.

When Rimmer's lips met Lister's, something snapped, letting out all of the lust he had held pent up for - he did not want to make the calculation. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth and kissed Lister desperately, hesitation gone along with most of his rational thinking capability, his hand sliding to Lister's back.

Very much on his own now, in every way, Spanners stood back, letting them have this moment. Well. Ace always did say Spanners could fix anything. If only he could see him now!

Now that Rimmer was pressed against him, Lister couldn't help but notice that Rimmer was monstrously stiff. Jurassic Park stiff, 1950's irradiated arachnids and insectoids dimensions stiff. He must have been hard for... hours, perhaps. As if Lister hadn't been aroused enough already, this nearly made him climax then and there. Rimmer wanted him. Wanted him _that_ badly. God, he must have wanted him when all the while on the way over; they could have, they could have - Lister explored Rimmer's mouth while laughing into it, everything falling around him, spinning, turning, being set free. He was free. Spanners laughed, as well, the two actions seeming to be one.

Hearing the same laughter from two different mouths, Rimmer was sure the joke was on him, but he could not bring himself to care. He moaned into Lister's mouth, opening his own mouth wider to allow Lister's tongue greater access, grabbing the shorter man's buttock to pull him upwards.

Feeling like an intruder, Spanners was nonetheless beyond turned on from watching this. He shouldn't be, he knew, but he was, and there was nothing he could do about it. But through what remained of what had tied him to the other Lister, he was reassured that this was all right. Perfectly all right. And deep inside him, a voice he had repressed for what felt like far too long piped up, "Well, and haven't you deserved something?"

Lister broke the kiss for a moment, needing air, breathing and laughing in bursts. If you could die from joy, this would certainly be what it was like.

Rimmer put his forehead to Lister's, raising the hand that had been holding Lister's buttock up to stroke his cheek, exploring the rather dangerous fact that he _could_ do this. It had been too long. He had too much pent up. "Dave... god." He licked the cheek that he was not stroking. He would eat Lister alive, he knew it.

"Love you," Lister sighed.

"Smeg, I adore you," Rimmer muttered, nibbling his ear.

Spanners flitted almost nervously around the periphery. It's all right, Lister signaled again, with his eyes rather than super-sensory means this time; he reached out a hand to Spanners, who moved behind Lister, and unthinkingly, slowly, began to undress this other Lister.

Rimmer watched Spanners in mild surprise, that strange jealousy tugging at his gut. But he could not hold onto it as Lister started to pull at Rimmer's own clothes. He loosened his grip on Lister to help him. Dammit, this is where holo-clothes would come in handy, he thought as he almost ripped the jacket in his haste to get it off.

As much as he needed them gone this instant, Lister relished the delay of pleasure as the clothes needed to be negotiated off. He choked on a giggle as he refrained from helping Rimmer too much.

Rimmer tried to nibble at Lister's neck as his hands and Lister's interfered with each other, probably delaying him getting his own kit off. "I don't know what this is," he muttered into Lister's neck, "but I need it."

Spanners moved his hands to the front of Lister's trousers and started undoing the belt. Lister groaned at the prospect of what this implied, and started to fumble with Rimmer's trousers. Rimmer paused, bare to the waist, in helping Lister take the bacofoil flightsuit off, and slid his hand down Lister's stomach, into his pants, caressing Lister's hip from there.

The feel of hologrammatic hands on his own body slammed into Lister's brain, his head rolling back with a sound half-way between a squeal and a moan. "Yes... please..." So long; longing, wondering, needing. He couldn't wait any longer now.

"Yes," Rimmer growled, moving his other hand to help Lister pop the clasps on his own trousers. He kicked his boots off, muttering a curse at the annoyance of the practical details of this, all of which seemed to be serving to hold him back from _his_ Lister.

Spanners stopped taking Lister's clothes off and crossed his arms almost protectively across Lister's chest. Rimmer pulled off his trousers and socks, leaving himself naked and very, very erect, but paused and stared at the sight of Spanners embracing Lister, possessively. He bit his lip, horniness, frustration, and that vague jealousy swirling in his viscera.

Lister, apparently not noticing this, grabbed Rimmer's buttocks, pulling him closer. He ground up against Rimmer, and Spanners took a step back to remove the top of his overalls, almost shyly. That instant reassurance from Lister in his mind was gone, and he was torn between his sense of what was right and what he desperately needed.

Rimmer took that interruption as a chance to claim Lister's sides, stroking them and slipping his hands inside of Lister's trousers as Lister whimpered. He lowered his lips over Lister's, hesitantly, still unsure of what Lister truly wanted, in his eager response to this double-sided attention.

God, yes, more, please! Lister did not hesitate; he reached up for Rimmer's lips, thinking only in emotions now, not words. On one side, he felt Rimmer suck on his lips feverishly; on the other, he felt Spanners's erection pressing into his back as his alternate held him protectively.

Rimmer ran his hands over Lister's sides, feeling that vague jealousy flirt with annoyance as he kept bumping Spanners's arms with his own. Bloody hell, if he had given in, by rights he should have Lister to himself.

This other Ace was so close. And Spanners was, after all, David Lister - by nature all impulse and curiosity, albeit kept closely in check by a super-ego he'd more or less assembled for himself without reading the instructions properly. And now, in a further expansion of a bad metaphor, the whole shoddy thing was falling apart, and he cursed himself for not having taken the extra time to figure out what that odd double-sided screw was far. He reached one hand out towards Ace's arm, wanting to caress it lightly. He did so, finally, gasping at the contact.

Rimmer shivered, but Lister was taking too much of his attention for him to worry about Spanners, provided the other man was not in his way. He pushed Lister's pants to the ground, kissing Lister's neck as Lister turned his head.

Again, the Daves locked eyes, and now nothing but looks was needed for them to communicate precisely. Lister closed his eyes; one of his hands found Spanners's hand, and they both reached down and touched Rimmer's erection together. Jubilation surged through Lister at the contact; it was like landing on a new planet. He fought the urge to plant a flag and name the gorgeous member in his hands.

Rimmer sucked in a breath at this unexpected contact, more unexpected for being two of the same-side hand, and inadvertently bit Lister's neck. "Sorry..." he muttered, licking the bite.

Lister yelped at the feel of the teeth. He ignored Rimmer's words, concentrating on caressing the head of his penis, while Spanners stroked the shaft.

Rimmer let his head fall back, and groaned "Dave," at the sterile, off-white ceiling. It didn't seem to care.

Lost in the moment, Spanners started to reply, but bit his tongue. Not your Ace. Remember? No, he could not forget that. Lister murmured pleasurably, putting his free hand up to caress Rimmer's cheek, as if to reassure himself that it was real.

"God, yes," Rimmer continued, bucking slightly into their hands. Both Daves laughed hoarsely, in a harmony Rimmer found eerie. He raised his hand to touch Lister's cheek, reassuring himself that it was _his_ Lister he was touching.

Needing more, more still, Lister pulled Rimmer's head down and lunged into a new kiss, while stroking the head of Rimmer's erection as he knew he liked to have done to _him_. Spanners, his mental constructions collapsing in untidy heaps every which way, moved in to kiss Rimmer's shoulder, lightly.

Rimmer gasped into Lister's mouth, shuddering at the feel of two mouths on him. The seething jealousy was being unseated by a highly inexplicable sense of _belonging_ , one he resisted. One Lister. _His_ Lister. Lister began to lick Rimmer's throat. This was too much; this was too many Listers. Rimmer put his hand down, gently pulling them both of them off of him. "Not yet," he gasped.

Both Daves blinked, confused, panting in tandem.

Rimmer kissed Lister hungrily, then slid to his knees, licking Lister's chest and stomach, raking his nails slightly on the shorter man's buttocks.

This was one of the undreamed-of possibilities. In Lister's fantasies, he'd never been on the receiving end, and the unexpectedness moved him into what felt like a sensory register previously unexplored by mortal men. Lister moaned impatiently. "Want yuh..." He felt faint. Spanners shrugged out of the rest of his overalls and his boots; in just his clean white boxers, as though following some unsaid orders, he went over to support Lister, who sorely needed it.

Now that he was down there, uncertainty gripped Rimmer. Oral service had seemed like such a good idea from higher up, but he had never done it before, and confronted with the item itself - he quailed. He put his mouth around Lister's cock, but did not lick or suck. "I want you," he breathed on it. That much was certain. How was another matter altogether. He moaned in frustration, stroking Lister's inner thighs.

With Rimmer's mouth so close, practically on him, it took a Herculean effort for Lister to keep from just _thrusting_ , but he knew he couldn't. And beyond that, seeing Rimmer's face, his lips, his mouth, all that beauty, wanting him, _wanting him_. "Smeg... man... I'm gonna come just by looking at ya..." He was only just joking.

Slowly, gently, and tentatively, Rimmer licked just the head. It had almost no taste - slightly musky, slightly salty, a touch bitter. It thrilled him on some indefinable level, though, to taste _his_ Lister, and he kissed it, thrilled doubly at the whimper that emerged as he did so. He remembered something that a young blonde from the Olgerian cluster had done post-rescue and pre-return-to-her-father, and started to suck his way along the bottom of the shaft.

Spanners laughed at the sight, holding Lister tight as he whimpered. Lister wondered idly where Rimmer had learned this, coming to the conclusion that he did not want to know. Pressing his lips shut, he tried to make as little noise as possible, move as little as possible, worried that if he did, he'd come at pretty much the same instant. He wanted to scream, yell, thrash wildly, lean against the person who felt like himself now stroking up and down his sides, nuzzling against his neck from time to time. Spanners, Lister faintly remembered, his name was Spanners.

While this was more enjoyable than Rimmer had feared, it was also more stimulating than he had expected. His head was spinning. He rested his forehead against Lister's stomach, sighing agonizingly as he stroked Lister's testicles, trying to do _something_ while he regained some semblance of his wits. He rubbed his cheek on Lister's erection, then licked it on the sides, the saliva disappearing as soon as it left his tongue.

Lister's reached both hands out to Rimmer's head, caressing it, enjoying the feel of those curls - but wondering if Rimmer realized that Lister had not had sex for years. This couldn't go on much longer; he'd already avoided coming several times now. This, too, was exciting, though; part of the whole game.

Rimmer looked up, disconcerted at how quiet Lister was. This, then, was not quite right. He licked his way back up Lister's stomach, unable to resist the feel of the other man's skin under his tongue.

One of Lister's hands ran down to Rimmer's shoulder, feeling the muscles there. He sighed quietly, whining slightly as the attention to his cock ceased. How would he survive this? Part of Lister wanted to slap Rimmer for this, part of him wanted to laugh it off, but most of him was just crying out with all his senses - _more_ , for smeg's sake, _more_.

Spanners, thinking nothing in particular, watched this calmly over Lister's shoulder.

Rimmer ran his hands up and down Lister's stomach as he licked his way up to Lister's chest. The sensations from his hands and his tongue were appealingly distinct, and he relished the resilient firmness and musky saltiness that each, respectively, afforded. His tongue was unsatisfied when he reached his feet, and he stuck it in Lister's mouth to surround it with the sharp, smoky taste of Lister. He pulled the other man's buttocks towards him, pushing his thigh against Lister's erection, his own erection rubbing agonizingly against Lister's stomach.

Lister realized he should perhaps try to vocalize something of what he was feeling, but was interrupted by the tongue in his mouth. He'd think it was a rude interruption, if it hadn't been so life-affirmingly necessary. He ground back against Rimmer forcefully, leaping at this _something_.

Rimmer had almost forgotten that Spanners was pressed against Lister, but images of the young man kissing _his_ Lister ran through his mind as he ran his tongue over Lister's. The seething jealousy continued to decrease, however, as Lister responded so eagerly to _him_.

He had to say something. Lister had to say something, or he'd surely explode, right here, right now, in one way or another. "More..." he managed to choke out, around Rimmer's tongue, "More..."

Rimmer pulled back. "What do you want?"

What a question! "God, please, _anything_!"

Spanners ran his hands over Lister's sides, and Rimmer, by happy accident, where Rimmer touched Lister. He was pressing up rather hard against Lister now, the echo of that 'more' in his mind, moaning in counterpoint. Through all this, Lister felt like he had four arms, all reaching out to Rimmer.

Anything - but he had not responded to the oral? And Rimmer had found he was rather enjoying that bit. Well, all he could do was try. He reached down to stroke Lister. "I want to suck you..." he choked into Lister's ear.

Then why the smegging hell did you stop, Lister wanted to yell, but not in earnest. Anything Rimmer was willing to offer him was a blessing, more than he had ever dared imagine. "Please, yes..."

Ah, this was a change. Rimmer tried more. "I want you to come in my mouth..." He bit Lister's ear, so very gently.

Words, tones, pure pleasure in themselves. Lister couldn't remember ever having wanted anything else. "Guh... Y..es..." His hips were bucking.

Rimmer's knees pointedly asked Rimmer to do this on something softer than the hard Space Corps regulation floor. He tried to pull Lister towards the bunk, wondering how he would get the man to lie back on it with Spanners glued to his rear.

Understanding, his cock and every fiber of him aching, Lister followed in a daze, pulling Spanners with him. The two Daves spread out as they moved, holding hands, Spanners following Lister like an unsteady puppy. This felt wrong, the younger Dave thought; this wasn't his place. And yet, there was an emptiness in his heart which he hadn't had time to think about yet, and he would do anything to delay dealing with it just a little while longer.

Rimmer pushed Lister backwards towards the bunk. His little speech had been intended to tease Lister, but it had awoken a feral hunger in himself.

With some reluctance, Lister let go of Spanners's hand. Spanners sighed and let him go, painfully erect, not knowing what do with it, overcome by lust and the equally strong need for this to work out _right_ \- for at least one Dave and one Ace to be happy. He stumbled after them, collapsing on his knees next to the bed, hunched over, as though this would help with the ache in his groin.

Rimmer straddled Lister as soon as he was supine, and started to suck. He could not help glancing over at Spanners, however, noting how quietly the young man had stepped back for them, yielding to them as a couple.

Rimmer turned his attention back to Lister, who was leaning back, lost in feeling, unable to articulate the onslaught of sensations and emotions, even to himself. Rimmer stroked his hips, firmly, while pulling as much of the erection into his mouth as he could, licking what did lay inside.

Spanners had caught the glance Rimmer had sent to him. He could not stand this any longer; the sight was killing him in more ways than one. He started stroking himself very slowly, leaning over the bed, resting his head on Lister's arm, watching Rimmer suck Lister, reveling in the rightness of it, while resenting the possible wrongness of his own actions. He couldn't feel Lister anymore; he didn't know what Lister wanted. And Lister had let go of his hand; he was probably no longer welcome. He should leave. But how could he?

Rimmer tried to concentrate on how different Spanners was from his Dave, tried to see him as an intruder. But he found his heart reaching out to that Dave, so like his own. He tentatively stroked Spanners's cheek with one hand. Lister's body arched under him, close to orgasm, and he tried to hum, something else that blonde had done that had felt reasonably magnificent at the time. It came out as half a groan as he ran his hand down to Spanners's shoulder, kneading it.

The touch was more than he could have hoped for, and Spanners leaned all too eagerly into it, intensifying the touching of himself. Only half-aware of what he was doing, he licked Lister's nipples, as though the other man was once again an extension of himself.

Lister flinched, his hand in Rimmer's hair, his vocal chords trying to find novel things to do with air. He knew there was something he should do at that point, something important, but his mind was filled with love and Arn and hot breath, and sensation.

Rimmer watched Spanners and Lister, his heart full of the desire for one to be _his_ Lister, stroking Lister's hip with the hand that was not on Spanners's shoulder - on his back, now, rubbing gently. He hummed and licked, feeling Lister thrash under him - _his_ Lister, damn it, nobody else's.

Oh, yes, Lister thought. It felt like a ridiculous understatement, but his entire universe now was sensation, not thought. "Coming... " he choked, almost crying.

Egged on by all this, Spanners leaned back into Rimmer's touch, his hands working himself feverishly now.

Lister did not want to come, did not want this to end. But as Rimmer tried to swallow more, rubbing Lister's hip firmly and affectionately, he did come, on a wave of ecstasy, bucking and thrashing on the bed, grabbing Rimmer, grabbing what he could of Spanners.

Rimmer coughed at the bitter come that flowed into his mouth. He swallowed what he could, licking the erection more gently as the shudders flowed through Lister.

Some climax had taken place - his? Lister's? It did not matter. It was a form of closure, Spanners sensed. Reaching over, he kissed Lister gently on the cheek, then on his lips, flooded with relief that wasn't entirely his own.

Rimmer licked his way up Lister, but noted with a fist-clenching surge of emptiness that his mouth was already occupied.

Sensing a mouth nearby, Lister lunged into a kiss, his hands still on Rimmer's head, the very act of which made him realized it was not Rimmer he was kissing. Needing that more than anything, he pulled upwards, wanting Rimmer close, inside him, with him, always. When Rimmer yielded easily, Lister kissed him fiercely as soon as he could, and Spanners, all inhibitions and good intentions lost at that point, licked and kissed both of their cheeks.

Rimmer kissed Lister slowly, moaning, feeling his twisted viscera start to relax again as he tasted _his_ Lister.

Thrilling at being able to do so, Spanners caressed Rimmer's back, his other hand back on his own erection, but he did not stroke it. There just didn't seem to be any point to it. In the end, this wasn't about him. It wasn't about him at all.

Rimmer caught Spanners out of the corner of his eye. His thoughts were a twisted combination of resentment of and gratitude for Spanners, and the latter was starting to win out as Lister kissed him without reservation. Rimmer felt responsible, somehow, for Spanners. Yes, he had not chosen to be Ace. But here he was.

One of Lister's hands reached out towards Spanners, as though asking for help. Spanners looked from Lister to Rimmer, seeing the question in Rimmer's eyes, worry seeping into him again; determined not to break this, not _now_. Lister seemed to want to move Rimmer onto his back. Spanners wanted to help, god knows he did, and searched Ace's eyes for a sign.

Rimmer followed Lister's urging as the other man broke the kiss and started to press Rimmer onto his back. He looked directly at Spanners, for the first time since this had begun, seeing the man, finally, as just a confused, heartsore boy, trying to make good for the two of them after having lost what he had. "I know I'm not your Ace..." he said hoarsely, feeling terribly inadequate.

Spanners met his gaze, the power of speech escaping him. "Know..."

"But I owe you - so much." He touched Spanners's cheek, still grasping Lister's hip like an anchor to reality.

No, you're not mine, Spanners sighed, feeling every finger, every crease on Ace's palm. But you are Ace, through and through. I'm grateful I got to meet you.

Panting and spent, Lister nevertheless straddled Rimmer, feeling exhausted, resting his head against the hard-light chest. "Love you," he muttered into his chest. As long as he was capable of breathing, he would do this, what he'd been able to do only in his mind for oh-so long.

Rimmer stroked Lister's hair, feeling his possessiveness surge. "God, I love you." he gasped.

One of Lister's hands reached out, yet again, to Spanners, whose eyes had not left Rimmer's face, trying to drag him into the bunk, too. Spanners hesitated while Lister moved as far as he could towards the wall, tugging at Spanners's hand, glancing at Rimmer. At the look of acceptance in the latter's eyes, Spanners sighed in relief, lust, love, everything; he clambered awkwardly on top of Rimmer on the side Lister had vacated, and began almost instantly to lick Rimmer's chest, as Lister, revived, licked the other side. There was only this moment now, no before or after.

Rimmer sighed and closed his eyes, stroking Lister's hair again. Self-consciousness reared his head as Spanners began to lavish attention on _his_ body. Lord only knew what tricks Ace had carried in his sleeve; Arn certainly did not have them.

Spanners licked Rimmer's nipples, not knowing if he had the same reaction Ace had to this. It was more moderate, he noted; Rimmer responded to being licked anywhere. Spanners found this was not a disagreeable change.

Lister licked his way down to Rimmer's stomach, sliding over and under Spanners on his way there. Both Listers reached out to grab Rimmer's erection at the same time, two minds, one thought, but separate now, too. Their hands met, and they looked at one another, smiling. They had seen one another's minds; like the bond twins were said to have between them. No, closer than that. Echoes still lingered as Lister found himself remembering having done this to a slightly different body, time and time again, in a lifetime removed in space, time and reality. And as Rimmer cried out, thrashing just a little bit, Spanners felt as though, in some small way, this was the only Arnold Rimmer he had ever been with; the only Ace he had loved.

The two Daves quickly fell into a rhythm, stroking Rimmer's penis with one hand, stroking his arms and sides with the free hand. Their lips met quite naturally, and they looked towards Rimmer as they moaned into each other's mouths. Spanners's erection hurt, but he ignored it, feeling as though he were kissing two people. Lister was still limp, despite mounting excitement. Nature had limits, after all.

Rimmer gasped at the sight and the feel. Two Listers making love to him - it threw rational thought right out of the window. He grabbed their hips, one in each hand, kneading, coming with a gasp and a wailing moan.

Both Daves were still kissing as this happened, looking deeply into Rimmer's eyes. A look of disappointment crossed Lister's face. Rimmer did not miss it. He gasped, still in the last quavers of orgasm, "That happens... two or three..." He swallowed as another shudder made him twitch, "times..."

Lister frowned, but Spanners grinned. Realization began to rise in Lister as he felt the member in his hand doing so, too. Impossible... Wasn't it? What was this - a holographic glitch?

Spanners panted, "Neat trick... isn't it?" Lister was speechless, but began to fondle the rising member again automatically.

Rimmer frowned, despite the tail-end of orgasmic ecstasy. "Trick?" he panted. He was not a smegging circus bear.

As the erection in his hand grew to firmness, Lister felt like a child who had just been informed that Christmas happens more than once a year. He'd had girlfriends with this ability, but that a man would be able to? How many blessings did one person deserve?

Rimmer threw back his head and wailed just a little bit as his erection grew back to its former size in the hands of both Daves.

Quite fired up now, Lister murmured, "Good... I wanted to taste you..." Oh, the understatement. Craved, perhaps. Required, closer still. He leaned down to Rimmer's erection, licking the head a little, wanting to go slowly, but needing to do everything right _now_.

All thoughts of righteous indignation fled Rimmer's mind at the warm wetness. "Ohgod," he mumbled, throwing his head back and forth. "Dave..."

Spanners followed Lister down, grinding his own painful erection against Rimmer's leg, which the latter felt with some confusion of emotion. There was that that peculiar protective affection tweaking Rimmer's soul again, spilling over to this other Dave. He raised that leg to wrap around Spanners, who responded by grinding harder, yet somehow also more gently.

Having reached his limits, Lister swallowed Rimmer's erection whole, knowing of no other way of doing it. It seemed natural. It felt like nothing else.

Rimmer shuddered, thrusting slightly. "God, Dave," he moaned. Something came out of his mouth that might have been 'smeg' or 'sweet,' but might have been 'simonize,' as well. Coherency was gone.

Lister came up for air, and Spanners took his place, licking, sucking, responding as well he could to Rimmer's thrashings.

Rimmer sighed, touching _his_ Dave on the leg. God, he could tell the difference between their mouths on his cock. He trembled as Spanners licked it more ferociously than Lister had, not pulling it as far into his mouth.

The two Listers started to alternate licking and sucking the erection, almost fighting over it. Lister finally won out, grabbing it entirely in his mouth, sliding up and down, feeling himself, incredibly (it rarely happened that soon) becoming erect again.

Rimmer tried not to thrash and curse, not to thrust into Lister's mouth. He failed utterly; his hips almost left the bed as he swore like a rather sheltered sailor.

Delighted in this newfound way of pleasing him, Lister grabbed Rimmer's buttocks, pushing the hologram's groin into his mouth even farther. Spanners looked on in alarm, fearing that Lister would learn all too vividly that a cock can gag rather painfully. But Lister, feeling nothing but deep-seated joy merely sucked harder.

"Goh... Dave..." Rimmer grabbed Lister's wiry curls in his hands. "Coming..."

Lister murmured "Yes" around a mouthful of cock.

" _My_ Dave..." Rimmer grunted through clenched teeth, grabbing Lister's hair hard, too hard, gasping and bucking as he came.

The climax, although expected, was, somehow, unexpected. Lister choked a little, in surprise more than discomfort, but quickly gained control again, sucking every last shiver out of Rimmer as Spanners caressed them both, quietly.

Rimmer finished riding the wave of orgasm, and forced his hands open, shocked at how tightly they had been clenched. "You... all.. right?" he muttered, running one shaking hand over Lister's cheek.

Lister laughed against Rimmer's groin. This was truly a night for stupid questions. "There's no name for what I'm feeling, but it's on the side of heaven."

Rimmer closed his eyes for a moment. So very Lister, this sappy adolescent hyperbole. "You're too much," he muttered, feeling vaguely disgusted. But only vaguely. "Maybe just enough."

Lister planted kisses all the way up to Rimmer's face. "Arn," he sighed, softly, lovingly. This was real. Real.

"Dave," Rimmer replied steadily; it was a statement of fact. He stroked Lister's cheek, then ran the hand down to the small of Lister's back, resting it there.

And there it was; Spanners was superfluous. He sighed. Superfluous in the best way possible. He started to slide quietly out of bed.

Rimmer felt the bed shift, and turned to where Spanners was exiting it. "Hey..." he said, feeling an odd sense of loss.

Lister glanced in Spanner's direction, his arms around Rimmer, not wanting to let go.

With Rimmer's face looking at him, Spanners tried to communicate some sort of 'thank you,' but what does one say? He settled for leaning down and planting a very soft kiss on Rimmer's cheek, smiling.

Rimmer felt sympathetic pain for Spanners, for the loss he must feel, just as poignant, if different in nature, from the loss Rimmer felt when Lister pushed him out of his life, so many years ago. He touched Spanners gently on the cheek, wishing he could do something. Be that Ace that Spanners needed, just for a moment.

Spanners looked from Rimmer to Lister and back. "Take care of one another," he said. As if they wouldn't, after this. Still, it was the sort of thing one said. He assumed. This had been a strange day.

Rimmer closed his eyes. The hand on Lister's back pulled him uncomfortably tight. How fragile this all was. He had Lister now, for this moment, but a moment, only, it was. He pictured Lister in Spanners's place, pining away for a man long-dead. Had he any right to pull Lister in to this?

Still erect, Spanners backed away from the bed. He felt no pain. Not in his groin. There would be time enough for that. Too much time, probably. He should clear his head, then try to sleep. Then there was his shift to be done, and then... Perhaps he had some leave coming. He didn't tend to take it out. They'd understand; the relationship hadn't been as secret as Ace had wanted it to be.

Rimmer felt his throat close. He realized he did, in a strange way, love this boy, too; this Dave who had lost his Ace, who had every right to hate and resent him, and yet who had tried so hard to help him.

Spanners began to dress, concentrating on this rather simple act, as Lister lay serenely on Rimmer's chest, dozing.

"I'm so sorry," Rimmer said, quietly. Spanners half-turned. "About... all of it."

"Why?" Spanners asked.

"Sorry that you lost him. Sorry about this... whole thing. It's taken on a life of its own, hasn't it." Rimmer looked at Lister's snoozing head. "Sorry I thought you were wrong."

Spanners smiled. "I'll accept yer condolences, but there's no apology needed," he eyed Lister, lying on Rimmer's chest with his eyes closed, "for anything."

Rimmer nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"I'm going to go for a walk; clear my head. You... Rest. You've earned it."

Rimmer closed his eyes and nodded, unable to look at the sincerity in his face any longer.

In the doorframe, Spanners stopped, looking at the tableaux before him. They'd made it. Well done them. And good luck to all the others like them, like him and Ace, out there in the multiverse. Lister snuggled closer to the man he loved, and Spanners' heart broke. He remained for a few seconds, letting it. Then, increment by tiny increment, a smile replaced his neutral frown. And he left.

Rimmer rubbed Lister's back lightly, feeling the skin and bones and musculature of the other man, feeling the heartbeat thudding through him, smelling the sour breath flowing from him. Lister lay on his chest, a man's weight of responsibility stifling Rimmer's breath. Rimmer stopped breathing, opening his eyes and looking at Lister. Spanners and Ace sat before him as a cautionary tale, of the pain that love could cause. He did not trust himself with Lister's heart.

Lister concentrated on holding Rimmer close. If he just kept holding him tight, he thought, incoherently, he might just stop him from going away. He murmured in half-sleep, "Please don't leave again." Then came an uneasy snore.

Rimmer found that he could not deny Lister anything. "Not without you," he muttered, knowing that he could no more defy Lister than defy gravity. He could not sleep. He tried to just exist, for a little while, holding that delicious man.


End file.
